Ephemeral
by sarsparilla
Summary: A chance encounter between old friends; a realization that life doesn't always go according to plans. Is it too late to make new ones? Co-authored by Durandall.
1. Chapter 1

**Ephemeral**

A Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu fanfiction by Durandall and Sarsparilla

Disclaimer: The series begun with the light novel 'The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi'/'Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu' is the creation of Nagaru Tanigawa. No disrespect is intended with the creation of this work.

* * *

It had started out like any other day.

Sasaki had chosen her beige suit in anticipation of the searing hot afternoon temperatures predicted by the weather forecast — a modest comfort not afforded to the majority of white-collar samurai sharing the early morning commuter train with her. She stood impassively in her favorite corner, leaning against the back wall of the passenger car in apparent contemplation of the suburban scenery rushing past the window to the monotonous clatter of the train.

If anyone had been using the same line often enough to pay attention to her propensity to choose the particular spot they might have mistaken the habit for a precaution against chikan, and she was content to leave it at that; though, she couldn't help feeling mildly annoyed by the fact that groping in public transport was common enough a phenomenon to have a specific word reserved just for it.

While securing her bodily integrity from potential molesters was certainly an ancillary benefit, it also drew attention away from the fact that, from this vantage point, she could entertain herself by discreetly observing other passengers.

Sasaki started with a man in his late twenties, standing in the middle of the corridor like the owner of the place. Jaw jutting out, he was practically radiating self-confidence while casually eyeing other passengers, as if looking for a challenger for his status. She dodged eye contact while analyzing the case. Upwardly mobile based on the attire and demeanor. Very competitive, a typical alpha. Which device could be used to sell him an idea? Posed as an implicit challenge, perhaps competitive sports with a strong emphasis on personality? Golf? Motorsports?

She stole a second glance to affirm the assessment and noticed his wristwatch. Definitely motorsports.

Then, there was a middle-aged man on a side seat. Nervous and preoccupied by his thoughts, based on the twitchy manner of constantly readjusting his eyeglasses. Sitting with a slight hunch: reserved, tired, beaten — a common enough combination for Sasaki to know instinctively what would work. First, something unexpected to startle and grab attention, humorous rather than threatening, then an upbeat message promising success and inclusivity while the recipient is still chuckling at the initial joke. Easy enough.

Next to the man, an adolescent with headphones, lazily browsing a shounen manga magazine.

Too easy.

Reading other people had always felt natural to her. The awareness that most people could not do the same — and might even find the concept uncomfortable — was what made her daily pastime a bit of a guilty indulgence. Certainly, early on her husband had been delighted by her ability to anticipate his wishes; it was not until much later when….

That was not a line of thought she was particularly interested in following on such a fine morning, but since the mood had already managed to get its foot in the door she reluctantly gave up and turned her attention to the day ahead. She had already reviewed the results that would be presented during the morning meeting, and she was confident enough to stand by her conclusions, but Tanaka was an uncertain factor in the equation. There was nothing obviously wrong with the numbers he had provided, but she could not escape the suspicion that he was withholding some information from her.

There was a distant possibility that it could be a personal issue. To her mild consternation, Tanaka had made thinly veiled advances to her at the official new year's party, after her status had become common knowledge in the company, but he had done it in a sufficiently circumspect manner to save face when she had declined the offer. Tanaka was not a stupid man and had not broached the subject ever since, but there had been a subtle change in his attitude, as if he had initially thought of doing it as a favor. Well, he _was_ two years her junior.

In any case, Sasaki was not interested in favors, especially of that kind. Especially now.

Or perhaps she was reading too much into that single incident, and it was just a matter of usual workplace politics. There had been rumors of boss Matsumoto making preparations for retirement, and since his son was the head of Sasaki's department, career advancement opportunities might open soon for those of hard-working persuasion … or cunning, as it might be. Sasaki liked her job to the extent of knowing that she was good at it; the thought that somebody might intentionally sabotage the common effort for personal gain, and the very real possibility that the company could actually end up rewarding such behavior, felt like a travesty.

She was not personally that interested in a managerial position, just averse to the idea of Tanaka gaining it through less than wholesome means. However, there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it since voicing her suspicions without tangible proof of obstruction was out of question. She would be on shaky ground even if she managed to produce irrefutable evidence, as the necessary measures for achieving that might be interpreted as acting in bad faith to incite internal conflict.

Oh well, too bad.

She sighed under her breath and this time actually turned her attention to the scene outside the window. The train was slowing down as it approached Kitaguchi station, and the traffic information on the display updated. She would have six minutes to catch the next southbound train on the perpendicular line — more than enough for a short walk between the platforms.

The train arrived at the platform and stopped with a minor jolt. Several passengers were leaving at this station, so she had to wait for a moment before getting out. The outside air felt refreshing both in a figurative and literal sense, and she joined the stream of people heading to the proper direction.

The other — and somewhat less pleasant — side of Sasaki's inclination for analytical observations manifested itself in situations like this when there were too many people to be considered as individuals. She let her mind unfocus a bit until reaching what she liked to think of as a mental phase transition; the scenery around her ceased to exist as a collection of people and became an organ of The Society, pumping its precious lifeblood forward with an almost mathematical exactitude. On this level the properties of individual agents were rather insignificant as long as they averaged out in the end, making it possible to capture the behavior of the whole into simple equations. She knew this to be true to a disconcerting degree — after all, she had written some of those equations herself.

It was an ethical dilemma — even if she only used the knowledge to state how things were, nothing prevented the clients from applying the leverage for pushing things into a direction they wanted them to go. Hume had not provided an opinion on how culpable she would be if something bad came out of that. But on an even more fundamental level, she found the approach deeply unsatisfying. It was almost as if an individual did not matter at all, being too insignificant to cause a noticeable deviation, and too easily replaced by another random specimen of the same class. Quite emphatically, she did not want it to be true; it was really too bad, then, that her job depended on it.

Sasaki was still contemplating the apparent downfall of existentialism when she became aware of a discrepancy in the model, pulling her back to the physical reality of the transition hall. She looked around to find the cause of the anomaly and caught a glimpse of a person standing in the middle of the hall, reading traffic information from the large display on the wall. A person she had not seen in a long time….

She managed to go through a number of possible opening lines in the short span of time it took to cover the remaining distance until she stood face to face with the person who had now also seen her. She noticed the details almost unconsciously. A taupe gray blazer, striped shirt, no tie. Blue trousers. An urban backpack. He was slightly taller than she remembered. Not just taller, but more … robust. A man. And still, the change was so subtle that Sasaki suddenly had an uncanny feeling as if she had just stepped into a time capsule.

She decided to go for the obvious option.

"Hi, Kyon!"

What was the expression on his face? Surprise? Delight? Certainly those, but also something beyond that.

"Sasaki?"

A remark was made in Sasaki's mind, pointing out that statistically speaking the statement only had a 45% chance of being true; she immediately ignored that line of thought. Not only was it true at the moment, but it also felt _right_, a subtle reminder of less complicated times. She knew that the smile she had as they both stepped to the side to give way to other passengers felt more genuine than the practiced one she had to wear daily at work.

"In this situation, people are expected to reply that they haven't seen each other for ages, but it would actually be rather silly to do so, since we both know that already. When was the last time, the third year of high school?" she asked, despite knowing the answer.

He seemed to give the question a serious consideration. "If I remember correctly, it was a day after the graduation ceremony. Right … it has been a long time."

"This is also how I remember it. Back then, you were aiming for Toudai. Did you return to Nishinomiya after university, or are you here just on a visit?"

"I live here in Kotoen, at least most of the time. How about you?"

"I have an apartment in Ashiya, but my workplace is here. Now I'm feeling guilty for not staying in contact after the high school. To think that we may have been passing each other daily without noticing…."

"Regrettably, this failure has been mutual. My apologies."

Kyon scratched the back of his head while apologizing, and this gesture made Sasaki realize that the reply was not just a pleasantry — the issue really bothered him.

Right then the display behind Kyon flashed, reminding Sasaki that she would have to cut this chance meeting short if she wanted to get to work in time.

"I am terribly sorry, but my train leaves in a minute. Please call me later!"

Sasaki's official business card holder was too large to fit comfortably in her purse, but she always carried a couple of cards in a smaller case for unexpected situations like this. She picked a card from the stack and, after checking quickly that it was indeed one of her own, offered it with a practiced bow. The sudden formality seemed to amuse Kyon, but then he went along and accepted the card with a bow of his own. Sasaki apologized once again before hurrying away.

Just before heading down to the platform she turned around momentarily to smile and wave. He was still standing at the same spot and responded to her gesture. It was not until then that she finally figured out the inscrutable component in his expression. If her intuition was still working properly, the relevant word would have to be … bewilderment? That did not seem to make sense, and as she stepped into the train she had to suppress an urge to check whether there was something wrong with her hair.

* * *

After the unexpected encounter, he found himself studying the business card on the remainder of his trip. He knew the formula for exchange; even if he didn't have his own cards, he still had a case for those he accepted. But there was no reason to scribble any notes or reminders to himself on the back of her card; she was one of those precious few people he'd never forget, under any circumstance.

If he were younger and more excitable, he would have called her almost immediately — continued the conversation that hadn't even properly started on cell-phone. Certainly, that sort of thing was looked down on in the crowded commuter trains, but if it were important enough….

He resisted that temptation, despite his long-ago thoughts that he would never see her again, and instead merely studied the card. The number was already programmed into his phone, making the physical artifact almost entirely pointless.

Almost.

Instead of obsessing over it, he saved it carefully with other business cards he'd been presented with in the past and focused on his current mission.

If it could even be called that … it was playful, in some senses, or grandiose in others — giving the self-assigned task more gravity and weight than it probably deserved. On the other hand, it was how he made his living, so the situation did deserve to be taken at least that seriously.

His phone held his other notes, so he pored over them from transfer-to-transfer, until reaching the small village of Ohara. A tourist trap if he'd ever seen one, and far enough away he might have been better served driving instead of relying on public transit.

Driving wasn't exactly an option anyway, seeing as his car was in the shop getting the timing belt replaced. It shouldn't have worn out quite as quickly as it had, but stranger things had happened, hadn't they?

In any case, if he hadn't been in Kitaguchi, he wouldn't have had the chance encounter he had — and then where would he be?

So there wasn't any sense in complaining about it.

At least the temple of Jakko-in itself felt authentic.

From the bus stop it was a short hike up the stairs to where his 'client' awaited, though he'd been subjected to — and indeed, subjected himself to — worse. The priest was wearing the traditional tsuseno headpiece, and robes marked with large colored spots. He had to judge the priest's garb as a reassuring sign; typically those who were seeking attention or participating in a hoax had the more formal attire.

Without introducing himself, since he himself was wearing fairly casual clothing, he nodded his head to the fretting priest and moved quietly to the offering box. A donation bought him a few moments to study the area discretely, while contemplating. He'd seen more than enough shrines in his time, so it wasn't difficult to judge — to pick out the small signs that indicated the priest took care of it himself over mere observances to tradition and the cultural heritage.

The grounds-keeping wasn't immaculate, though he wouldn't have judged it bad. That suggested the priest actually did it himself, which was a promising sign. The shrine in general didn't look poor, so it wasn't probably a desperate attempt at generating income, either. The most obvious explanation that it might be a hoax would be the priest's rank of gonsekai; if he were looking for some 'event' that would elevate his status and help bypass the seikai rank exams….

Enough of that; he didn't want to be judgemental, even if he had done this — or something very like it — many, many times before.

Turning to look at the priest, who stood near the torii leading into the shrine's courtyard garden warily, he introduced himself, concluding as he did from long habit — something _else_ ingrained into him from those long-ago high school and college years — "…but you can call me Kyon. Most people do, anyway."

The priest nodded anxiously, and without even trying to probe, Kyon searched his face for a reaction. Mild tension about his eyes released; he heaved a sigh and offered an uneasy smile. He was either a very good actor, or actually believed he was relating the truth.

"You're the … paranormal investigator?" the priest asked anxiously.

"While I can think of someone who would be delighted to call me that, I'm just a journalist," Kyon demurred. "But I do happen to investigate paranormal events for the subject of my articles."

Smiling softly, betraying a hint of uncomfortable nervousness, the priest asked, "But, you've got experience with this sort of thing?"

Like he wouldn't believe, in point of fact, but instead of saying anything along those lines Kyon just nodded. Clearing his throat briefly, he posed, "Well — let's go over the history, first. There was a fire here, years ago, wasn't there?"

"Yes, but the restoration finished long ago, as well," the priest countered, shaking his head.

"So I see," Kyon agreed appreciatively, looking across the grounds again. Going over his notes mentally, he summarized what he'd already known from the cursory internet searches he'd made.

"Let me offer you something to drink. We can continue this discussion in the teahouse, so you can at least sit down," the priest insisted.

Kyon nodded in response, thinking it would be nice to set down his bag. "Thank you," he said politely, bowing before falling into step behind the priest.

The temple had been established centuries ago, and its claims to fame were the two and a half meter tall wooden statue of Jizo-Bosatsu, and the tomb of the historical empress Taira no Tokuko, also called Kenrei-mon In. When the Taira family was nearly wiped out by the Minamoto clan, she had been one of the few survivors, and ultimately become a Buddhist nun in that very same shrine.

Or not exactly the same shrine, considering the fire — but that wasn't really the point of the investigation. He had time to think about it while the priest fussed over making fresh tea. As he returned, bearing a pair of steaming cups, Kyon rummaged for a pad of paper from his bag and prompted, "And now … once you're comfortable, can you tell me what happened?"

Nodding, the priest's jaw shifted slightly, setting in determination. He was steeling himself to deliver the story, something he expected would not be believed. And _that_ was something Kyon was more than familiar with, as well.

The priest haltingly started his explanation, while Kyon jotted down the observations — and here and there a direct quote for later use. It wasn't terribly dissimilar from other stories that Kyon had heard before, in reality. Of course, it was hard to label such a thing 'typical'. As always seemed to be the case, there was no proof, just the visions that the priest recalled. His story was simply that the Taira matriarch had somehow revived in spectral form and wept before the statue of Jizo-Bosatsu.

When he was finally done, the priest asked, "So … what do you think?"

Really, he thought it was strange that he was considered an authority on the subject, and that priests turned to _him_ for his advice. He could think of one person would would be pleased about that, though.

"Well," Kyon said at length, tapping his chin and considering things. "The empress had lost her family before retreating to the temple. It does make sense that she would have a connection to the statue of Jizo-Bosatsu, given his role as a guardian of children."

Did that really 'prove' anything, though? As always, he had to admit to himself that it didn't, really. He didn't have the option of just giving such a weak answer and dodging the question, however.

The priest pressed, "But you've interviewed many people with similar stories. What do you think?"

"I think we can see and be touched by things we can't prove to others," Kyon finally answered, closing his notepad and putting his pen away.

"I see…" the priest answered thoughtfully.

Shaking his head to dismiss a distracting thought, Kyon bowed. "Thank you for your time; this has been an interesting interview."

"Thank you for listening," the priest returned humbly. "I wasn't certain who to take such a tale to."

"I think you can share it with the Jinja Honcho," Kyon suggested after a moment. The Association of Shinto Shrines would listen, certainly. "I don't know what they would make of it, but there's no reason to tell one journalist and stop there."

"Perhaps I shall," the priest returned, smiling thoughtfully.

After relating similar stories he'd heard at other shrines, while he was careful not to offer too much of his own opinions, Kyon excused himself for the long journey back. It had taken long enough to get to the village; he wouldn't reach his own home to begin writing until late that evening.

It was only after a bus had dropped him off at a train station and he was left with a ten minute wait that he returned his attention to the business card he'd received only that morning. It did list a cell phone number, not just an office phone. It was even the cell phone number he'd already programmed into his own — but that wasn't the question. It was more … at this hour, would it be too late?

Was Sasaki the type to fraternize with her co-workers and go out drinking, as commonly seemed to be expected of someone in her position? Would she excuse herself and avoid it? Or perhaps her office was different and didn't do such things?

Then again, it was also possible that she was still working.

Shrugging, he thought about what other longtime friends of his might have done, and mustered the courage to call anyway. If it was a bad time, he could leave a message for her, and she could call back when it was more convenient to her.

After the third ring, he resigned himself to the message, trying to formulate it in advance so it wouldn't sound clumsy and halting— And she answered.

"Hello," she said politely. "This is Sasaki — to whom am I speaking?"

He belatedly realized she wouldn't be able to recognize his number yet, so chuckled and said, "Well, hello, old friend. Is this a bad time to speak?"

"Ah, Kyon," she replied softly, sounding suprised, but not unhappy. "Well, I am afraid I do not have very much time at the moment, but I can spare a few minutes. I did ask you to call me later, after all."

"In that case, shall we try and arrange something more convenient?" he asked. "Perhaps we could meet for lunch some day?"

"Certainly," she agreed. "Your schedule isn't too busy?"

He suspected that was more a comment on her own free time, but perhaps it was actually a probe into his own schedule. "It usually isn't," he admitted. If there were any people he didn't see a reason to bother hiding things from, she would be quite near the top of that list.

"In that case, are you free … three days from now?" she asked, pausing as though checking her own calendar.

"That should be fine—" He frowned as he heard the train tracks begin to hum. At this remote station there were only a pair of other passengers waiting to board. "Ah, my train is arriving. Can you send me an e-mail saying where you would like to meet, and when?"

"That means I get to choose — but I look forward to speaking with you again," she replied warmly. "Take care, Kyon."

"And you as well, Sasaki," he returned, before they both disconnected, as the approaching train's brakes began to sound.

* * *

The commercial district surrounding Imazu station had relatively little pedestrian traffic at lunch time. Sasaki was fairly certain that she could get to the meeting point in time, as it was just a short walk away from her workplace; however, she couldn't help feeling unusually self-conscious as she approached her destination.

She had hesitated for a while before choosing the wisteria skirt suit that she was sparing for special occasions. By doing so she was certainly forfeiting her ability to blend inconspicuously in the crowd; instead of being able to discreetly observe other people, she could sense how she was now the target of many an aside glance. While the attention she was drawing was not disapproving by any measure, she would rather have done without.

She reminded herself that this _was_ a special occasion. The unexpected meeting a couple of days ago had acted as a reminder of a different world that was at apparent odds with her own; of events that in retrospect felt like a fever dream.

In the past she had occasionally tried to convince herself that it would be better to forget certain things altogether, but the lingering awareness of a fundamental fallacy in the rational, mechanistic world view refused to go away. If it was the truth, the only prudent course of action was to accept it regardless of how nonsensical it appeared at the first glance.

But if she was to be honest with herself, there was more to her anticipation of this meeting than just the philosophical aspect. Sasaki knew precious few people with whom she could speak her mind without reservations, and Kyon's name had been on top of that short list for a very long time. Concerning the extraordinary, then … since she had lost contact with Tachibana the only remaining person on _that_ list was him.

That had to be the reason for why she was feeling so cheerful today, wasn't it?

She arrived at the square in front of the station and saw that Kyon was already there waiting for her, raising his hand in greeting as soon as he noticed her.

"I am sorry for not arriving earlier," she excused, after greeting in response. "I hope that this did not cause too much inconvenience to you."

This was just a standard courtesy, as she could see from his expression that he was anything but bothered in the situation.

"You were punctual, so there's no need to apologize — and this is about as far removed from inconvenience as I can imagine," he replied. "I assume that the restaurant is nearby?"

"You are right, it is only one block away. Regrettably, this area doesn't have as many options as Shugukawa, but I couldn't arrange a long enough break for going all the way there and back … so I am glad that your schedule was flexible enough to accommodate this."

Kyon shrugged as they headed in the direction she had indicated. "There wasn't any schedule worth mentioning. This is only the second fixed item in my calendar for this week, after the one I was working on the day we met the last time.

"That's also why I arrived early," he continued, while they walked down the street. "I didn't have anything that absolutely needed to be done until tomorrow, so I decided to take a look around this side of the city. I remember when this was mostly a residential area, with some industrial facilities closer to the seafront, but in the last ten years those seem to have given way to offices and shops, to the extent that I can hardly recognize the place."

Sasaki reflected on the statement and found it to be true; certainly, her own company was one of the newcomers.

"It is not that different from succession in an ecological system, is it?" she eventually said out loud. "The same laws of survival and expediency govern the collective actions of people, complex group behavior emerging from the seemingly simple choices of individual agents. People can accept personal responsibility for their actions to the extent those affect their immediate surroundings; however, the relation between that and collective responsibility is tenuous at best.

"This only suggests that the society can be treated as a living organism, and like all such entities it must reaffirm its existence by constantly recreating itself through the dissociative and constructive processes of metabolism."

The comment drew out a chuckle from Kyon, and noticing Sasaki's curious glance he explained, "There wasn't anything funny in what you said. It was just that — well, I couldn't think of anyone else who would make a comment like that, but coming from you it sounds completely natural — trivial, even."

He smiled reassuringly. "I'm just glad to see that as much as things change, some of them always stay the same."

Sasaki was not sure how to respond to this, but she knew that Kyon had managed to point out a reason for the buoyancy she was feeling at the moment. He might have a slightly more outspoken, decisive air on him, but he was still very much the same Kyon she had known. Despite all the intervening years, he had still called her a friend.

And it was an acceptable break from the principle of equality for friends to set some time aside to be shared between them, even at the exclusion of others, wasn't it? For personal needs to temporarily supercede those of the community. After all … personal did not have to mean the same as insignificant.

Those thoughts got sidelined when they reached the intended destination, a small and outwardly inconspicuous restaurant on the ground level of a multi-storey building.

"This is a traditional place?" Kyon asked, taking a look around after they had stepped in and were courteously shown to a table. The two-person booth they were given was separated from those on either side of it by simple screens of white paper in a wooden frame, of the same tone as the table, providing a semblance of privacy. Other than a piece of calligraphy on the wall, interior furnishing followed a starkly minimalist style.

"I hope that you find Kyoto-style kaiseki an acceptable option. I can attest to the quality of the seasonal dishes," Sasaki confided, leaning closer to keep the conversation private. Seeing his expression, she laughed and continued, "Of course I do not eat here daily. Never mind the price, I wouldn't possibly have enough time to spare for a full course. However, my colleagues and I sometimes bring our clients here for a dinner, if meetings last that long. Everyone agrees that this is the best place in the area."

"I've mostly had kaiseki while staying at a ryokan — that is, not very often," he said reflectively, "but I think that it is an entirely appropriate choice. After all, the original kanji used to write the word simply stood for a 'get-together meal', and I'm happy to share one with you today."

"I am relieved to hear that, as I had taken the liberty to make the order in advance," she admitted, as an elaborately arranged appetizer was brought in. "This way, we will have more time to talk about things while eating. So … itadakimasu."

There was a moment of polite silence as they gave an appropriate amount of attention to the assortment of colors and tastes of sakizuke.

"So, how have you been, old friend?" Kyon asked after a while. "From what I can see, you appear to be working just as diligently towards your goals as when we were at school."

"It can't be helped that we all behave in a way that is in harmony with our personal tendencies, can it? After all, that is exactly what makes us who we are," she said. "It is true that work takes a large part of my time right now, but that is a choice I made myself. I can only hope that the results will be worth the effort."

"Well — since I got your business card I took a glance at the web pages of your company, but that didn't really tell anything pertinent about your job. What is it that an analyst does in the context of PR consulting?"

"I could give a detailed answer, but it would require you to sit still and listen for two hours, without breaks, and I don't have my presentations with me, anyway," Sasaki said in a wry tone. Finishing the morsel she had picked from the plate, she continued, "Basically, it is my task to find out why people behave the way they do, and how they can be enticed into doing something specific."

"Sounds like psychology to me," he observed.

"It is that, too, but applied to the society as a whole. Mostly, it is just statistics. I must assume that you would find my day-to-day work incredibly boring compared to your own. While we both work in fields that could arguably be seen as facets of social anthropology, at least you get to travel around and actually meet the people you write about. In a sense, our jobs are polar opposites of each other, since I study the many for the benefit of a few, but you study the few for the benefit of everybody."

Kyon blinked. "Correct me if I'm wrong … but I don't remember telling anything about my own job — yet."

The openly sceptical expression on his face reminded Sasaki of times long gone, and she could not help feeling a little bit nostalgic.

"But of course, it must be a trick," she said, laughing. "The detective who can deduce astonishingly accurate facts from inconspicuous details is a well-known archetype, but in reality sufficiently specific details are almost never present. Or, a mentalist who seems to be reading minds is just delivering carefully crafted platitudes and relying on confirmation bias for the opponent to unwittingly fill in the facts.

She shook her head. "While it might be an interesting proposition to be able to do something like that, the reality is as mundane as my work. I know about your job because I have read several of your articles over the years. They are well researched and thoughtful, so finding a new one is always a delight. Besides the stories themselves, it makes me glad to see you doing something that you so evidently enjoy."

"Ah, you're too kind," Kyon managed, slightly taken aback by the direct praise. "After some studying most stories practically write themselves, so I'm just a middle-man of a sort. And — if you say that your work is mundane, then most of what I do could be described with the same word. Reading books, going to a library or museum to check a fact, having a meeting with the editor….

"But you're right, I'm doing it because it's enjoyable — at least when it doesn't rain on a field day," he added, with a smile.

"So, you were investigating a new lead on Monday when we met at the railway station?" Sasaki asked. "I assume that it was the other appointment that you mentioned."

"That's right, I was going to Ohara to have an interview concerning one potential case — although I don't know yet where and when I'll be using that material. Sometimes it feels like for each case that ends up in an article there are ten just using up space in the archive."

"Would you mind telling me about it? Somehow, a place like Ohara does not sound like the most likely destination for an investigation of paranormal phenomena."

"Most of them don't," Kyon countered, just as sashimi was brought to the table. "On the contrary, eyewitnesses' accounts tend to be more authentic when there isn't any apparent reason for the things they experienced. I'm sure that you're well aware of preconceived notions affecting people's interpretation of events, which is why there are so many ghost stories related to famous haunted locations like the Himeji Castle — each of those stories more suspect than the other. But, this one sounded reasonably genuine — if I'm anybody to judge these things."

As he started with the story, Sasaki noticed that she was paying more attention to how he talked about the events than to the described events themselves; there was something in his calm and measured tone of voice that made her wish that the story would be as long as one of his written articles, although that certainly could not be the case.

Now that she thought about it, hadn't one of the things that she had liked in the articles been that she could hear his voice behind the written words — sometimes laconic and factual, sometimes erudite and verging on the philosophical, but always mindful and sensible? So dependable that the reader couldn't help agreeing with his point of view. That was one of the traits that made him such a compelling writer. She always felt as if he was making a personal connection through the text, talking directly to the reader. To her.

And now he was here with her, doing exactly that. The experience was so far removed from her daily routines that it felt slightly unreal.

She wondered whether she should feel at least a little bit guilty for enjoying the moment so much, for appropriating his attention just for herself. Was it selfish? A sign of repressed emotional issues? She rejected the notion. She would have noticed if there had been any romantic undertones to the situation, and there weren't.

Just two old friends having a lunch together. There was nothing wrong with it.

"…and then, while waiting a train back to Nishinomiya I called you," Kyon finished his description.

"And … that is all there is to it?" Sasaki asked, cocking her head appraisingly to the side. "It feels somehow … incomplete."

"That'd be a rather befitting word for most cases that I encounter. We humans tend to seek closure in a story because it's a satisfying experience, like a refined dessert at the end of a good meal. It's something that every decent writer knows by instinct to include — but in the real world most stories hardly get as far as to the soup.

"Or, there might be a closure, but we'll never learn about it because it happens somewhere else, to someone else. That … is something we just have to accept the way it is."

His tone of voice was surprisingly solemn, making Sasaki think that the issue probably had some personal meaning to him. However, it would have been impolite to point that out in the middle of light conversation, so she decided to change the topic a little.

Remembering his supernatural friends and their club for searching the extraordinary, she was impressed by what they had managed to accomplish after high school. Wasn't it a bit like hiding in plain sight?

"So, how do you divide the work?" she asked casually.

As soon as she had said this she knew that she had made a mistake; she just didn't know yet how big it was.

"What do you mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know that you do the research and the final writing part…," she said, hoping against all odds that she had simply misread the cues, and simultaneously chiding herself for making such an unwarranted assumption.

Kyon looked quizzically at her for a moment before spotting the unvoiced question.

"You're talking about Haruhi, aren't you? You can remember Haruhi?"

"How could I not remember her?" Sasaki asked, pushed off balance by the unexpected response.

He lowered his chopsticks and paused for a moment, as if trying to set his words carefully.

"Haruhi … is not with us any more."

Sasaki had to put her hand over her mouth to avoid making an audible gasp. Whatever she had expected, this wasn't it. There was an acute sense of pain, at the same time sympathy for him and regret for her own inadvertent broaching of the topic, and she could only manage a weak, "I am sorry…."

Seeing her reaction, he hastily continued, "Eh, it's not like that. I meant quite literally that she's not _here_, in this world. I'm certain that she's still somewhere — I just don't know where … or when."

"And … she won't be coming back?" Sasaki asked hesitantly, still perplexed but deriving a tiny bit of reassurance from Kyon's apparent calmness.

He reflected on the question for a moment before answering, "No, I don't think that she'll be coming back — at least in a form that we would recognize." His words had an air of finality in them; not one of grief but of conviction.

"It was inconsiderate of me to think — ah, I really ruined the mood, didn't I? I am genuinely sorry for this," she said, deeply dissatisfied with herself.

"Again, there isn't any need to apologize. You couldn't have known — and I made a false assumption as well. Actually, it was already the second in a row, so I'm at least as culpable as you."

He sighed and looked at the half-finished sashimi on the table.

"Oh well … I guess that it was something that was bound to come up sooner or later. I don't think that you ruined the mood as such, but there is a real danger of the meal getting ruined unless we keep eating. If you find it acceptable, I can try to explain myself at the same time. Please don't get me wrong, in a sense it's a relief for me to be able to talk about it — especially with you, of all people."

There was another moment of silence, one that Sasaki did not dare to break when she noticed that he was contemplating some inner vision, a memory from a different time.

"Well, 'explain' was probably too strong a word," he said after a while. "I can tell you what happened, but of the reasons behind it I have only a vague hunch. To a large extent it's still a mystery to me … and I think that just now it became even more mysterious.

"Now, where to start— You probably know already that I was indeed admitted to Toudai despite my initial reservations. My general achievement score was only barely good enough to qualify for the actual entrance exam, and even my parents thought that I'd have better chances with some other place, but Haruhi had decided that I'd pass the exams — and after she had set her mind on that goal the entire general examination committee couldn't have prevented her from getting her way.

"I think that I've never studied harder than at that time," he said, chuckling, "but in the end it was probably for the best, considering that I did indeed get into the most prestigious university in Japan — and quite probably by the smallest possible margin, too. Of course, she herself passed the exams with flying colors after all the tutoring she had given to me.

"So, we both went to Toudai … as did Nagato, as well, although she soon got so absorbed in her studies that we seldom saw each other during those years. Concerning the rest of us … I believe that Koizumi took up a job in family business after his graduation, or at least that's what he claimed when we had anniversary gatherings of the SOS Brigade.

"Then, Asahina-san had already graduated a year before the rest of us. She kept visiting us on occasion, but I suspect that she was doing that on borrowed time — there were small things like having wrong clothes for the season or being uncertain about the day of the week. I … kind of knew about her situation, but we never talked about it openly. Somehow, it felt easier that way.

"Although the Brigade was never officially disbanded, in the end it was mostly just Haruhi and me doing all the ordinary things that university students everywhere do — and it appeared to be good enough for both of us.

"I think that Haruhi calmed down a lot during those years, genuinely enjoying a life that was seemingly devoid of anything supernatural. It bothered me a bit that I knew things that she didn't, but whenever I tried to speak about it with her, she was extremely good at not hearing what I said. So … after a while I just let it be. It didn't feel that important any more — compared to all the other things that happened.

He paused for a moment, as a waiter discreetly switched the empty sashimi plates to bowls of nimono.

"Looks like zucchini is in season again," Kyon observed after raising the lid, gesturing her to start with the dish. "Now, where was I? By 'calming down' I don't mean that Haruhi would've lost either her seemingly endless energy or outlandish ideas. If anything, her enthusiasm for experiencing everything possible under the sun only grew as time went by.

"I … can't exactly say that I didn't enjoy being involved in it all. However, there was always a part of her that felt somehow distant. It's hard to put in words … a sudden pause in conversation, a faraway look in her eyes even if only for a fleeting moment … and when the spell was over she again behaved as if nothing had happened.

"It became more noticeable during the last semester before graduation. She might pause and tune out in the middle of other activities, as if listening to distant sounds that only she could hear. I was slightly worried, but when confronted about it she always claimed that she was as happy as it was possible to be, and other than those moments when she was somewhere far away her actions proved without doubt that she was telling the truth.

"Then, one day near the end of October she went missing during a break between morning lectures. I didn't initially pay much attention to that since diligent studying had never been her first priority, but when she wasn't present in the afternoon either I started to get worried.

"When I got back to the apartment after the classes I found her there, vigorously preparing a dinner that would've been fit for an emperor. Apparently, she had taken the day off to find all the required ingredients and to prepare them properly. When I tried to find out the reason for such a feast, she said that she just felt like doing it. I had learned that when it came to Haruhi, that was often the most detailed answer one was going to get, so I let it be.

"After we had eaten the dinner and washed the dishes she sat on the couch and said that she wanted to talk, and I didn't have anything against the idea. We spent the evening talking about all kinds of things, but most of all about the experiences we had shared, about family and friends … and eventually about the supernatural as well.

"While she didn't admit it directly, that night I got the impression that she knew about those things that we weren't supposed to tell her about — aliens, espers, time travelers, the whole lot. Quite possibly, she had known all along and just didn't want to acknowledge it for her own reasons.

"My memories about the latter parts of the conversation are a bit hazy. I think that I had lost my sense of time and was starting to feel really tired, when something that she said suddenly grabbed my attention. At first I didn't quite understand what she was trying to explain, and after I realized what her words meant I was too stunned to think straight.

"She was bidding me farewell."

He fell silent for a moment, absorbed in his thoughts. Sasaki could barely breathe while it lasted.

"Of course, I couldn't understand why it was happening," he continued. "First I thought that I might've done something wrong, but she furiously denied that was the case. She talked something about an obligation and her having promised to fulfill it … that we all had agreed to it. That everything happened for a reason.

"She thanked me for the time I had given her, and for the shared memories that she would cherish forever. She said that I would understand one day — that I just had to keep searching. Her final words were that she had faith in me, and then … she turned into light in my arms."

He paused to clear his throat. "I don't know if I can describe it properly. It didn't feel as much like her vanishing as it felt like I was myself fading from one reality to another where she wasn't present any more, and the light that I had seen was that of the rising sun, just breaching the horizon. Whatever it was, it didn't change the fact that she was gone."

Despite her best efforts to avoid getting agitated, a storm of conflicting feelings was raging in Sasaki's mind. She was at the same time profoundly startled by the story, so sorry for his loss that she could have cried, and then … something else that she couldn't quite grasp. There was something significant in what he had just told her — she just couldn't spot it at the moment. She hoped fervently that she could look just as calm and composed as he.

"You have my sympathies … if that means anything," she eventually managed, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm down.

"Thank you — it certainly does," he said affably.

They barely noticed when the next dish, grilled mackerel, was brought in.

"Of course, I'd lie if I claimed that I wasn't upset back then," Kyon said after a moment of reflection. "It didn't seem to make any sense, and considering all the other things I had experienced….

"One of the first things that I found out was that Haruhi wasn't the only one who had disappeared. Nagato wasn't anywhere to be found either, and Koizumi's phone number wasn't in use any more. I didn't even know how to contact Asahina-san, but there was little reason to believe that she would've been an exception. Whatever plane of existence it was that called them back … they went there together."

Sasaki had a small epiphany. "I think that you might add Tachibana-san to that list. We used to write to each other even after high school, but at some point she stopped replying. Back then I didn't think so much about it, but I think that it coincided with the events that you described."

"Well, that would make sense — or at least as much sense as anything else," he said.

"Furthermore, all those people didn't just disappear — it was as if they had never been there in the first place. Haruhi and Nagato weren't on the student list any more, and as I kept asking around I realized that I was the only person who could remember them. Nothing had taken their place, either — there was just a conspicuous void in the official records and in the memories of people who had been in contact with them.

"It would've been easy to start thinking that I had lost my mind, but I guess that the craziness of my high school years kind of inoculated me against that. And … after a while I learned to cope with the new situation — since there wasn't anything else I could do.

"The only proof that I hadn't dreamed up everything I got shortly after graduation, when I found the old Brigade chief armband while sorting out my belongings. I think that it was also the moment when I finally accepted that Haruhi wouldn't be coming back. The armband was accompanied by a hand-written note by her, reminding me that it was now my responsibility to keep searching.

"And as you know already, that's what I've been doing."

"It may sound terribly trite for me to say this, but … I believe that she would heartily approve," Sasaki said respectfully, almost whispering.

"I'd like to think that way as well. We can only hope, right? Regardless of the amount of planning, life sometimes has its way of throwing you an unexpected curve ball."

He turned his attention to the dish for a moment, before continuing, "But, this bring us back to the current situation. I must regrettably admit that I thought that you might have disappeared as well, and never came around to actually checking that assumption. So, you can probably imagine my surprise when I saw you the other day."

"The surprise was something that I noticed, but I would never have guessed the reason behind it," she admitted. "In a way, that makes my inactivity look even worse, since I at least knew that you were still there."

"But you didn't know that I didn't know. Eh … if there are any more levels of recursion in this issue I'd better start making notes to not lose track.

"Anyway, that was something I could have handled better, and then I made another mistake by assuming that, like everybody else, you couldn't possibly remember the SOS Brigade. I thought that there might still be enough shared memories for us to have a pleasant conversation about good old times, and then … this happened." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

"I am really sorry that this reunion turned out to have a taste that neither of us could anticipate or appreciate," she said with a sigh, "but at the same time I cannot see how it could have been avoided, considering what each of us knew in advance. I just wish…."

She got distracted by the same feeling again, that there was something that she should have noticed, and sunk momentarily into introspection to spot the cause, but other than a mild craving for comfort to counterbalance the chagrin she had unleashed she couldn't find anything related to the situation — and that was not what she was looking for.

"I think that your attitude is admirable," she eventually said, trying to ignore the nagging feeling for a moment, "and I hope that something positive could come out of this as well. I am quite astonished to hear that I am the only person you have met who can remember your friends. On the outlook of it, this would appear to carry some significance even if we cannot tell what it is."

A set of rice, miso and pickles was served, indicating that the lunch was almost finished.

"That's exactly the thought I had in mind as well," he said. "There are always coincidences, but this looks far too conspicuous to be one. If you don't mind, I would really appreciate hearing your opinion on some of the theories I have been thinking."

"I would be glad to help any way I can, although my opinion cannot be worth much as I lack your detailed knowledge of the field."

"You're giving yourself less credit than is due. You can provide a fresh perspective, and if you have been following my work then you probably know more about paranormal phenomena than a minivan full of so-called 'experts'. And in any case" — he smiled for the first time in a long while — "expertise doesn't really matter one way or another. The important thing is that we were both there … and remember it."

She was impressed by his unflappable disposition. If he could remain sensible and positive on the face of such experiences, then she should certainly give herself the permission to do the same. That smile was … contagious.

"Very well then, I will try my best!"

"That's all I could hope for," he said, visibly pleased. "Now, to arrange my thoughts in a logical order…." He paused for a moment while they ate miso. "Are you familiar with the myths related to 'aos si'?"

"The name sounds familiar, but I don't remember the context. Which culture does it belong to?"

"Perhaps you'd recognize the name 'sidhe' better? In Gaelic folklore."

"Oh right, you wrote about them in that series on European mythology. They are Irish fairies, aren't they?"

"That's true, although the word 'fairy' might give a misleading impression about their nature. The sidhe are not cute little critters dancing hand in hand on top of flowers — while some of them might appear pleasant to the eye, others certainly wouldn't; when it comes to their overall demeanor, 'fearsome' would be a better description than 'cute'."

"Isn't that a rather common feature of supernatural beings? The same could be said of youkai in Japanese folklore," she observed.

"There are indeed many similarities between the sidhe and youkai. Considering their disparate roots, that's an interesting thing in itself.

"However, where youkai are based on an amalgamation of a number of traditions, giving rise to a rich, almost bewildering variety of entities, the myths on sidhe form a much more consistent, monolithic cycle about the 'people of the mounds'.

"There are a number of aspects that are worth mentioning, among them a belief that the sidhe live in an invisible parallel universe that coexists with our own, or a belief in the significance of particular times of day or the year. But, perhaps the most important thing is that the sidhe are bound by specific rules — although not necessarily ones that make much sense to us humans.

"Still, there's a common theme of reciprocity, the idea that in order to get something, you must give something in return. In essence, the relationship between humans and the sidhe is not one of open animosity but of a somewhat reserved cohabitation with a potential for mutual benefit."

"I remember that point from your article," she noted. "Your suggestion that it reflects the cultural changes in the transition from a nomadic to a primarily agricultural society with occupational specialization necessitating trade sounds entirely plausible."

The dessert — a sorbet — was served, and Sasaki caught herself wishing that she would have ordered the twelve dish course instead of the more reasonable six dish one. There were still so many things she wanted to discuss, so many unanswered question despite the reserved time running out as fast as the food in the bowls.

"That'd be a rather obvious rational explanation, and thus one that is safe to offer. When it comes to _irrational_ explanations…." He made a vague gesture with his hand. "Well, although a literal interpretation is out of question, do you think that it's too far-fetched to suggest that these kinds of myths could contain a trace of truth in them?"

"There was a period in my life when I would have adamantly denied the possibility, but then I was … convinced otherwise. That was probably a valuable lesson in keeping the mind open to the unexpected," she admitted.

"We graduated from the same school concerning that issue. Well then, I don't remember whether I mentioned it in my article, but there's one myth that I found particularly interesting — that of 'leanan sidhe'. Basically, it means a woman of the sidhe who seeks out a human man for a relationship."

"In our own folklore, kitsune sometimes do that as well."

"That's true, but the covenant between leanan sidhe and a man comes with some peculiar rules. If the man accepts the proposal, she becomes his lover and a muse, offering inspiration in his life … which won't last long, because their relationship drives him into madness and to a premature death. And if he doesn't accept, she must become his slave."

"That sounds rather cruel. Regardless of what they do, there is no happy ending."

"Back when these myths were born, life used to be both casually cruel and on the short side compared to our more civilized world. But if we peel away the cultural influences, the basic idea … seems to fit. That there are rules that must be obeyed, one way or another. That it's an exchange, a trade — our time for theirs.

"What if," he said, tentatively, "a happy ending as we usually understand it were as unattainable to such a being as faster-than-light travel is to us, but there was a … creative way to go around the rules to avoid an altogether unhappy one. In that case, could the end result be considered at least moderately happy?"

"From a theoretical point of view, recent studies suggest that happiness as a subjective sense of well-being may not be the primary factor in—"

Sasaki's explanation was cut short by an insistent buzzing sound. It took her a moment to reorient herself from the world of myths and fairies back to the restaurant table and to notice that the sound was coming from her purse.

"Oh, I forgot to turn off my phone. Please excuse me…." She picked up the phone to silence it and noticed that the incoming message was marked as urgent. She couldn't just ignore it, regardless of how tempting that would have been.

"Work issues," she explained while reading the message. "Apparently, my boss is of the opinion that my continued absence is detrimental to the proper functioning of the department. I am really sorry for this."

"Well, I guess that it can't be helped." He looked just as disappointed as she was.

"In any case, that is probably a question only you yourself can answer," she continued.

"I … what?"

"You asked whether lack of unhappiness can be considered happiness. I believe that the only meaningful answer can be one a person finds on his own."

"Oh, right." He looked at the table for a moment, in contemplation, before concluding, "Anyway, thank you for the meal, it was a feast. Maybe we can continue the discussion some other time?"

"I would love to do that," she said, "and hopefully on a more leisurely occasion, if I can arrange one."

"Uh, what about the bill?" he asked, as Sasaki simply thanked the personnel on their way out.

"You don't have to worry about that. The invoice will be sent to my office and I will settle it later."

"I should pay at least my own part of it, but I don't even know how much that is," he protested, although without much vigor. "Well, it only means that the next one's on me, right?" he added, as they stepped out into bright sunlight.

"It is agreed, then. I will be looking forward to that!" she said, with a smile. "And … thank you for your time."

He looked surprised for a fleeting moment, before answering with a smile of his own. "Likewise. You've got my number now; please don't hesitate to call me whenever you feel like it."

"I will do that. See you later, Kyon!"

On her way back to work Sasaki was feeling almost dizzy by all the new thoughts that were whirling around in her head. It was not a bad feeling as such, just … unusual.

But she still didn't know what the nagging little voice in her mind tried to tell her.


	2. Chapter 2

He had initially thought of his plan as being clever — exceptionally so, for him. In hindsight, it had ended up an unintentional ambush, of sorts. In his defense, she worked late, which meant they were also meeting late. The sun had already vanished over the horizon, allowing what few stars could peek through the light pollution to shine dimly overhead.

Sasaki had agreed she'd find out when she had the time to meet with him again, and that it was his choice on what they would actually eat. It had seemed fair, considering that she'd picked what they ate last time, and that she'd settled the check. But at that hour, many places were already closing, and even in the places that would remain open, privacy might be difficult to come by.

So he'd driven to a take-out okonomiyaki place in the downtown area of Ashiya and then phoned her up and asked directions to her apartment when they were supposed to be meeting.

Even though he'd never been there, his phone was able to figure out the route, and her apartment came with an unused parking spot, which she assured him he could use — as she wouldn't. Then he'd been distracted thinking about what they'd discussed last time, so he didn't think about it half as hard as he should have. She was undoubtedly under the impression that he was just going to be picking her up, not surprising her at the door with a bag of take-out.

She answered the door with a smile, dressed in an outfit that he expected would blend in with the others he'd seen worn in the downtown district earlier that day — an understated walnut gown that matched her hair nicely. "Ah," she said with a start, seeing the bag in his hand. "I seem to have been caught unaware!"

"Well, it would be my fault," he said feebly, shrugging. "I did manage to get this before they closed for the evening, though."

"While unexpected, dining in would quite possibly be much more reasonable," she replied with a soft chuckle. "I am certain we could account for ourselves if pressed, but some of our topics of discussion might be a bit strange, to some ears. What better way to assure privacy? In any case, you are welcome within, though I must warn you that it's not much."

He ducked his head in response, holding the bag out as though it were a better or more fitting gift than it was. She accepted it as he stepped in, kicking his shoes off — she was still wearing her slippers.

"I don't have any guest slippers either, I'm afraid," she added, looking — for Sasaki — mildly embarrassed.

"Again, it would be my fault for not better explaining my intent," he answered, looking around. "I should not have presumed…."

"No, you're a friend," she countered. "I have been somewhat remiss in preparing for a visit from a friend, haven't I?"

"I can't think I would be any better prepared," he determined. "So in that regard, we would be equal."

"And so, both blameless?" she mused wryly, catching his implication.

He nodded affably. "That sounds perfectly reasonable to me."

Housing in Ashiya of almost any sort was generally considered quite fine — and Sasaki's apartment was no particular exception, though it was smaller even than his own. It was, however, minimal in the extreme.

The only table she owned was a small affair pressed up against the one wall of the kitchen area that wasn't filled with counters or cabinets, with a single chair. There was no sign of a kotatsu, and beyond the shoes in the entryway, and a windbreaker hanging on the back of the door, almost no personal effects at all.

There was a small entertainment center with a television on it, but judging by the layer of dust on the screen, he wouldn't have been that surprised to find out she had won it in a contest, or it were a gift from either her work, or some grateful client.

After setting the bag of takeout on the kitchenette's small table, Sasaki looked inside, seemingly relieved to see the disposable chopsticks that had come with the rest of the containers.

"I'm afraid I don't have any cushions," she added, "but if you give me a moment, a futon will make do."

"Let me help," he offered, as she headed to the closet where it was stowed.

"Very well," she agreed, showing him where it was. The two of them had it rolled out before the inert television quickly enough, and then it was time to sit down and enjoy the meal.

"Ah," she started, opening up one of the flat containers and seeing the food inside. "I'm not particularly sure I can recall the last time I had okonomiyaki. I don't recognize the name of this restaurant."

"I found it while walking downtown at one point," he answered with a shrug, his eyes lighting on what seemed to be the room's only genuine personal touch. The inclusion of the television seemed to remind him more of a hotel than an apartment; the space didn't feel much like a home at all — just a temporary stop.

Somehow, the single chunk of stone sitting on the simple entertainment center in front of the television only underscored it. Beyond that, all of the normal signs and mementos that he would have expected from visiting someone's home were absent.

"I wasn't sure what you'd prefer, so I got a small selection," he added. "I think you got the seafood one? There's also two beef, and a vegetable okonomiyaki."

"I apologize for the sparse decoration," she said, noting his distraction.

"Well, there's that," he remarked, gesturing to the stone with his chopsticks before taking one of the takeout containers for himself, careful to be mindful of spilling it. If his guess were correct, then the futon they were using as a seat was actually her bedding.

She swallowed her current mouthful of grilled batter and sauce, before nodding thoughtfully. "That's a souvenir from before my marriage," she explained. "From a trip in my final year of high-school. I like to keep it as a reminder that looks can deceive, and even things that may appear permanent change over time."

He stared at the fist-sized lump of porous stone thoughtfully for a moment before remarking, "A mountain is not the first thing that comes to mind when people talk about appreciating transience."

"True," she agreed. "But at one point it was molten rock, and if one examines the mass of stone that exists within the planet, the majority of it is still molten within the core, is it not? One would have expected statistically that it could have remained in such a state for a very long time. Yet, quite recently in geological terms, this particular bit of molten stone became more solid rock, and even now is slowly flaking away into tiny particles.

"At some point in the future, it will all become dispersed, lost in dust and scattered across the world. Given enough time, even the mountain made of such stones will wear away until all sign of it is lost."

He nodded as he considered that. He wasn't sure how to proceed, or if he should even ask about what she might have inadvertently revealed. Thinking of what might be a more considerate lead-in, he asked, "Is it from Hawaii?"

Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Have you become an expert geologist?" she mused, turning her attention from the stone to him. Her lips curved in a smile as she shook her head slightly. "But of course, we already discounted the existence of the great detective, and I had not expected you to study such things! So it was a guess, then? What gave it away?"

"It was just a guess," he agreed with a shrug. Opening the box of the vegetable okonomiyaki, he cut it in half with his chopstick and moved one of the halves to his own makeshift plate, leaving the other half for her. After a bite, he added, "Hawaii is a very popular tourist destination. I'd say around four, maybe five times a year, someone who reads my articles contacts me to explain that they are a victim of Pele's Curse."

"Pele? The Hawaiian goddess?" Sasaki asked. "I don't think I've heard of her curse, if she has one!"

He nodded, confirming, "That Pele, yes. Though I admit I would not be surprised if you knew of the curse and discounted it anyway." He chuckled at her reaction of mildly raised eyebrows. "Ah — but to explain, Pele's Curse is supposedly a curse on all stones and soil in Hawaii.

"The story goes that she visits great and profound misfortune on those who dare to take pieces of Hawaii with them when they leave. The severity of this poor luck is never minor. People claim loss of their homes, wealth, the death of pets and loved ones … marriages ending…." He trailed off with a frown, realizing how insensitive that could have been and hurriedly moved on, despite Sasaki's expression not changing very much.

"Uh— Well, in any case, the primary post office of Volcano, Hawaii, gets a rather impressive number of packages each year containing rocks and soil, along with apology letters for taking it, and lists of misfortunes that had been experienced. Those come from around the world, and so every few months I get another letter from someone who blames Pele's Curse for their unlucky experiences."

"I hadn't heard of that," Sasaki admitted with a wry smile, shaking her head. "But you are correct that I wouldn't think it very likely. I presume that this is why you haven't written an article on it?"

"It's a bit too much superstition, and not enough paranormal," he agreed.

"I can't help but wonder if that bit of folklore came about due to fear of the islands being damaged by tourists taking too many pieces of it away," she mused.

"Many people suspect that is the origin of it," he agreed.

"Even without making actual calculations, it appears to me that the islands would generate replacement stone faster than it could be carried off by such means," she added. "It brings to mind the question of attempting to move Fuji-san, or the actual length of a maha-kalpa — the point being that people frequently underestimate the true scale of things."

"That same sort of reasoning is why the argument that flash photography damages classical paintings is still going about," he said with a shrug.

She nodded thoughtfully, then gave a small shrug of her own. "I suppose that since I have let the proverbial cat out of the bag, I should explain in greater detail," she added, frowning at her tray and deftly lifting the remaining half of the vegetable okonomiyaki.

"You don't have to," he said quickly. "If you don't want to, I mean."

"I think … a little bit, I do, though," she mused quietly. "I haven't much wanted to speak about it with anyone else, but we are after all friends. If not you, then who _would_ I discuss it with?

"To be frank, I tried discussing this with my mother, but it was more difficult than I had anticipated, despite the fact that she had gone through the same process. Initially, she was irate that I didn't appear upset enough.

"Later, her thoughts came around to a slightly more positive angle — that of being happy that it wasn't too late for me to find someone else, and allow her to become a grandmother. I can understand her intentions are generally positive, and she is not overwhelmingly insistent about it, but it is still somewhat awkward.

"With you, at least, I am more comfortably able to discuss these sorts of things," she concluded.

"I must offer my sympathies," Kyon allowed after a moment of thought, instead of asking about her co-workers. "My own mother also occasionally finds time to wonder when I will 'settle down' and provide grandchildren for her."

Sasaki offered a melancholic smile at the commiseration. Shaking her head slightly, she continued, "As I had mentioned, I was married. Not long after high-school — when I found that rock — I attended Kyoudai to study." She paused for another bite. "Which was where we met. I stayed in a dorm at the time, which would have made it easier for you to miss me."

He nodded thoughtfully, thinking he could recall Koizumi mentioning Kyoto University's philosophy program at one point. It was something seeking a synthesis between Eastern and Western paradigms, though he had been much less interested in such things at the time. "You studied philosophy?" he guessed.

"At first!" she agreed, nodding. "It ended up that I found mathematics and psychology — statistics — more likely to be skills that would be applicable in the job market," she explained. "A philosophy major did not seem to be the best for finding work!

"After graduation, I returned to Nishinomiya to pursue my career. We were married very shortly after that, even though he sought work elsewhere — he ended up being placed in an office in Sasebo not long after I was hired by my current employers. He commuted for a while, so we could spend weekends together, at least, but he was moved between offices a few times, so there was no sense in moving.

"By the time he had settled into a more permanent location, it was in Oga. We'd been maintaining the relationship long-distance for quite some time. He felt it was time to change that, and that I should move in with him." She paused, looking at her mostly finished meal as though digesting the thought.

He nodded, not really sure what he should say.

"Well," she continued, "neither of us were willing to give up our careers for the other, in the end. We ultimately ended up agreeing to divorce. It could have been much worse, so I am grateful for the fact that it was as amicable as it was."

"I'm sorry he wasn't more considerate of you," Kyon finally offered.

She shook her head, smiling softly. "That wasn't an issue," she countered. "Even if it is true our goals didn't align, neither of us is more complicit than the other in the dysfunction. It didn't work, but there's no real sense assigning blame. Really, we each have our own lives at this point … which was the problem, because that was the case before we divorced, as well. Toward the end, we felt like strangers who had foolishly signed a marriage contract when we were younger. Since we saw one another so seldom anyway….

"At any rate, we had been sharing a single apartment a few kilometers away, but after the divorce, I moved here, as I needed less space."

"And you haven't gotten around to decorating or buying furniture because you've been so busy?" he asked.

She shook her head ruefully. "That's the kind of blunt question I've come to expect from you," she admonished gently, smiling to show she didn't really mean it. "Ah, but … no. I consider this a temporary state, so as tempting as it might be, it would underscore a decision to accept things as they are now instead of planning on changing in the future."

He studied the mostly-finished okonomiyaki and scraps in the takeout container before him for a thoughtful minute. Thinking of the place where she lived, even if it were empty, he thought it suggested she was doing well for herself. "Your career seems to be going well, from what I can tell," he offered. "I'll admit that the complexities of your job title still escape me somewhat, but your business card is of fine quality, at the very least!"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "One could order custom cards easily," she countered. "I am guessing that you have thought about it from time to time, but could not decide what job title was most appropriate?"

"As always, you see right through to the heart of me," he sighed, hanging his head. Shrugging, he allowed, "That's largely correct, though. Other than that, since I am almost always contacted by others first, there's seldom a need to offer a card in any case — though I have amassed quite the collection of received cards.

"However, the point is that we both understand what I do. I am much more curious about the career that you pursue!"

"As I mentioned last time, it is gathering information and then sifting through it for greater understanding," she explained, closing the takeout container and setting it aside, chopsticks carefully placed atop it. "You are familiar with the classic on-line advertisements?"

"Of course," he agreed, nodding. "You do things like that?" he asked, his brow furrowing in puzzlement.

She laughed, shaking her head. "To say it as modestly as I can, it has come a very long way since then. Consider that in an ideal circumstance, by understanding the profile of a particular individual, and which demographic they represent, one could tailor a shopping experience to them. Does that make sense?"

He shrugged, following that. "Sure," he agreed. "But that sounds like something oriented toward very wealthy customers, as the setup would be very expensive."

"If we were to build physical arcades or malls, it certainly would be," she agreed. "Instead, our research allows us to devise better and more optimized advertisements and experiences on-line. By understanding what someone desires and catering to it, the experience is so pleasant it is more likely to generate repeat business.

"Of course, it's prohibitively expensive to do that for everyone — as you noted — so we instead aim for broad demographics and settle on the correct cues to engage their mindsets. Careful use of color, which reviews are displayed…." She trailed off, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

His expression sent a message he couldn't quite find the words for, and he instead offered, "That's … interesting."

"'Ending is better than mending. The more stitches, the less riches,'" she said with a soft sigh, staring at the futon in consternation.

Catching the reference, he gathered the empty takeout containers and chopsticks, answering, "'Cleanliness is next to Fordliness,'" as he rose.

"I find the work interesting, if the execution is unfortunately … mercenary," she added with a helpless shrug. "However, I cannot utilize my skills to do something I might enjoy more at this point without discarding my career and starting over."

Given what he realized she'd already given up for that career, he nodded as he dropped the bag into the waste bin. "I can understand that," he offered sympathetically. "You're saying you enjoy studying people and how they react to things, even if you're not exactly thrilled with how that knowledge is used?"

"That sums it up fairly well," she agreed.

He returned to the futon and reclaimed his seat, but couldn't help feeling that — even more than her divorce — this was something that weighed on her.

In situations like that one, he had never considered himself particularly adept at picking the correct words. As he'd expected, she found the motivation to continue before he did, wryly adding, "I confess that I may have thought of my work as important, but I wonder if perhaps that was merely something I told myself because I did not wish to become a housewife?"

He frowned. "I admit, I do have some trouble envisioning you as the stereotypical home-maker," he mused. "But even in high-school, you spoke to me of your interest in having at least one child."

"At some point," she said, shifting her shoulders as her fingers toyed with the hem of her skirt. "Even so, at this juncture my work takes much of my attention, and I haven't put any time or effort into searching for…." She trailed off with a small shrug.

"Despite the urging of my family, neither have I!" he remarked, giving her a smile of his own. He paused, shrugging wryly, as he realized, "In hindsight, I should have picked up some mochi for dessert."

"I'm afraid I don't have anything suitable, either," she apologized.

"Well, the meal was my responsibility this time, as you handled it last," he countered.

"Very well," she allowed. "But speaking of last time, our conversation was interrupted as you were relating something significant, wasn't it? Let us return to that issue."

"Right." He scratched his chin thoughtfully and gazed toward the ceiling momentarily, putting his thoughts together. "Yes, we were speaking about the 'leanan sidhe.' I had asked if there were perhaps some way, maybe utilizing some creative means, where the normal 'rules' could be avoided or subverted, allowing an outcome that was not unhappy. At least in comparison, wouldn't that outcome be happier?"

Her head tilted to one side slightly as a fingertip tapped at her lower lip in thought. "But I already said that's something that a person must find the answer to themselves," she remarked. "Unless you were trying to go somewhere else with that point?"

"Not particularly," he admitted. "More of a hope that it's the case, than anything else."

She gave a sympathetic sigh, straightening up. "Well, you are thinking that she was some sort of supernatural being?" she prompted. "I do recall we had a small number of discussions about this at a more intense time in the past. As vividly as I remember some events, others have become blurred and unclear, so I cannot bring every detail that we discussed to mind immediately."

"Well, I suspect your memory is sharper than mine, but I would like to think that between the two of us we can puzzle it out."

"There should be some significance to the fact that we can both recall Suzumiya-san," she agreed. "Before I say anything, why not finish that theory you had begun sharing previously?"

"Alright," he agreed, frowning. "I don't have absolute confidence in it, and much if it is conjecture. Well, being entirely honest, until we were at lunch and you brought it up, I didn't have any way to prove any such things even happened — no one else can recall them that I've found, after all.

"So — Haruhi was important, at least that much was agreed on by all of the aliens, espers, and time travelers. But my speculation is that her true importance was that she in particular was meant to accomplish some task. The others were there to either help or guide her … or perhaps even oppose her. It's difficult to really say.

"In the end, though, once she had accomplished this task, she left."

Sasaki touched her fingertips to the side of her chin absently, a gesture he realized he recalled from another of their long-ago discussions. "Perhaps, but from what I recall, I was supposedly of equal importance. Since I am not a supernatural being, that seems to be something we can discount."

His eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Was it not proposed at one point that you could choose between her, and making me take her place?" she asked.

"I remember that quite clearly," he agreed, grimacing at the memories. "It was a dark chapter — but made that much easier thanks to your friendship."

"The same is true from me to you," she assured him. "But you mentioned at one point the idea that there is a balance between our world and theirs — some sort of exchange. Time for time, or the like. That seems to be something that I can agree with, but it also reveals the fatal flaw in the argument; in order for me to be so freely interchangeable with Suzumiya-san, wouldn't I need to be a supernatural being, as well?"

"Actually, Tachibana tried to convince me that you were, and Haruhi somehow took your powers," he said with a frown.

"What a strange idea! I can remember her clearly stating that she thought I should have such powers, but not that they were mine to begin with! Even so … that was an idea she let up on after that episode. In any case, I don't have any recall of being a supernatural entity of any sort."

"I am suddenly reminded of the time that Nagato took Haruhi's powers and got rid of all of them," he mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Oh? So that can happen, too?" Sasaki asked, eyebrows rising.

"It is to me, still a bit complex," he said slowly. "And I'm uncertain if it was another world, strange magic worked against this one, or possibly even something that happened only in a dream. Let's see…. It happened in a December, and…."

As familiar as the story was to him, he realized he hadn't shared it with anyone. Well, there had been Koizumi, long ago, but he was gone with the others, now. As silly as the entire story should have been, she listened raptly, nodding with every detail he revealed, as though the words were precious treasures — or critical evidence needed to decide a case in court.

He finally concluded, "…so, thanks to that, we knew for certain that her power is transferable. Ultimately, the point of it was that Nagato _was_ a supernatural being, but was able to become a normal human. She was even able to forget she'd ever been anything _but_ a normal human." He coughed, shaking his head. "I should have brought something — but can I trouble you for something to drink?"

"Oh, certainly," she agreed, climbing to her feet briskly. "I've been a poor host by not offering sooner, haven't I? I do have water, at least," she declared, pulling a small plastic bottle from the refrigerator and offering it out. He accepted it with a nod of his head as she pulled another out for herself; the glimpse into the interior of the refrigerator showed that other than bottled water it was as empty as the rest of the house.

After swallowing a few mouthfuls he added, "Though, again, it's my fault for imposing."

"Still," she mused, dismissing his apology as she shifted on the futon slightly. "That does raise questions about me, doesn't it?"

"I suppose it has to," he agreed thoughtfully.

"Well, taking it one step at a time, what do you suppose her task was?" Sasaki asked.

"Going back to that time when even you said that you had faith in me as a perfectly normal person, I think it must have been for me to learn to look for amazing things," he determined. Looking slightly to one side, he added, "Or to make a point that it takes fantastic, god-like powers to get me into Toudai."

Her laugh rang out in response to the joke. "Ah, but … supposing that was true, what did she get from you in return?"

He mulled that thought over before ultimately spreading his hands in a helpless shrug. "To be honest, I am not certain. Perhaps I'm entirely off course," he sighed.

"Well, accepting that there is some sort of law of conservation on supernatural powers," she mused, "I suppose it _might_ be possible that I was once a supernatural being of some sort. At least, that would match up with Tachibana's claims at that time, along with that person you especially did not get along with, or that strange girl who assisted them."

He grimaced, even after all those years, and nodded his agreement. "If I recall correctly, _that_ person's specific phrasing was that by killing Haruhi, her powers would go to you as the nearest appropriate 'container'," he explained.

Her expression become solemn. "I hadn't known he was willing to go that far," she murmured. After a moment of thought, she shook her head, rousing from her distraction and continuing briskly, "That seems to reinforce a thought I've had, then.

"In which case, in my memory, I've always been a normal human, but at some point in the past I was a supernatural being. Certainly, that aligns with what was being discussed back then. For whatever reason, though, I became a normal person, as I am today."

"You're able to take that in stride better than I would have anticipated," he couldn't help but say.

"Well, I can accept the rationale to consider the theory," she explained, "but we are still lacking an understandable motivation — an explanation of _why_ this might have happened, though!"

Leaning back to stare at the ceiling in thought, Kyon said, "I recall now, in the various things that Haruhi and I discussed…. It wasn't the last thing, but it was near the end. At one point, she remarked, 'If I were to shoulder a companion's burdens, it would only be because we had all agreed to it.'

"At that time, I had thought it might have something to do with a classmate or a group assignment, and didn't much think about it. But if she was saying farewell at that time, she could also have been referring to you, might she not?"

"So then, the supernatural being that was me was sent on an assignment? And then found humans so fascinating that I chose to become one, and didn't finish my mission?" she wondered. "At some point after this, Suzumiya would have appeared and accepted the responsibility — and my supernatural powers?

"As nice as the idea is, there is the problem than neither of us recall the agreement, though. Even if we might have forgotten, or chosen to forget, there is the issue that I cannot think of a time that would be sensible for us to have come to this agreement."

"But time could be rewound." He nodded, remembering. "If two weeks could be looped almost endlessly, rewinding a few years to let you live a human life wouldn't be very difficult in comparison."

"Is that so?" She nodded thoughtfully at him, then drew in a breath, saying, "Well, bearing that in mind, then, I could see us coming to that agreement. Then I wonder … that event where you had to choose between me becoming a supernatural being, and not — was the significance of it what I had said at that time? That you were the one who had to make that choice?

"If you were chosen, perhaps everyone else had to respect the decision that was made and abide by it … such beings do seem to adore their contests and challenges, according to what bits of legend I've read. But, look at it this way! You were the emissary of humankind, and swayed beings beyond the comprehension of humans!

"And so, if that's the case — if her goal were to help me, then you would have done her a favor by filling that role, and so her interest in you would be paying that back! There's a balance in these things, isn't there? The time you spent with her weighed against the time that was rewound?"

"So it might have taken from when we first met until the point that Haruhi left — before things were rewound, at least — for us to reach that point," Kyon said slowly. "That … is rather a lot of time. Still, it's nothing compared to that two week loop, but…." He paused, thinking.

Would he redo that if Sasaki were more than human, and wished to become human? Didn't that mirror Haruhi herself, though? He wanted to let Haruhi continue being herself, and the same for Sasaki … and if she had made that choice…. If he'd been with Sasaki instead of Haruhi for that long, and it were what she wished, wouldn't he agree to try and help her?

"…I could see making that agreement," he said softly, a little shaken by the immensity of it.

"It is certainly something to think about!" she agreed.

"I'm not really sure what to be more astounded by," he said quietly. "That … does make sense, though. However, considering what this might say of you and what you once were, I'm surprised that even you don't seem unsettled by it."

"On the contrary!" she countered, smiling brightly. "As strange as it seems, if this is the case, then I am who I chose to be! Isn't that greatly reassuring? To know that you are who you wanted to be?"

He couldn't help but smile back, thinking of her long ago protests about the possibility of being given Haruhi's powers because just having them would change who she was. "That seems to be true as well," he agreed.

"A little bit, I am envious of you, though," Sasaki added, shaking her head. "In the process, you've gotten to see many amazing things. I wish I had such an opportunity, as I've forgotten any such events I might have seen in the past."

"Well," he started, before stifling a yawn. "Ah, it's later than I thought." He checked the time on his phone, and was suddenly glad he had a car, instead of needing to wait for the trains to restart.

That gave him quite a degree of flexibility in traveling. Though, thinking of that, he could think of _one_ thing to address Sasaki's mild envy. "The weekend is coming up soon. If the weather holds, would you be willing to meet with me very early in the morning on Sunday?"

"I could, but can you tell me what it's for?" she asked, biting back a yawn of her own.

"I can answer if you like, but I'd like it to be a surprise — for now, it's very late, and Shamisen is going to be grumpy if I don't feed him soon," he answered.

"I will trust you," she decided. "But let me know in advance if there are any special preparations I should make, as well as what time we should meet. Shamisen is your cat, isn't he? I'm glad to hear he's still with you!"

"He's getting older, but he's doing surprisingly well," Kyon agreed with a chuckle. "I wonder if he'll remember you?"

Looking around the apartment, Sasaki admitted, "I've thought about getting a cat of my own, but I feel it would be inconsiderate to neglect it in such a small space."

"Well, next time you can visit with Shamisen to your heart's content," he assured her. "He loves attention, so will not complain in the slightest, I am certain."

"Then that gives me two things to look forward to!" she declared. "In that case, I've enjoyed our visit, but you should get back to him — and I really must rest before work tomorrow, despite all of the thoughts that our discussion has stirred in my head!"

"Certainly — thank you again for putting up with me," he said, rising to his feet along with her and moving to the door.

"It was my pleasure to spend time with you like that, dear friend," she insisted, grinning, before she had to muffle another yawn. "Oh…."

"Take care until next time, dear friend," he returned, grinning back before she closed the door with a soft laugh.

Of course, she wasn't the only one who had thoughts stirred by that discussion. It still _was_ a lot to consider!

* * *

"To be quite honest, when you said 'very early in Sunday morning', I didn't realize just _how_ early that would be," Sasaki noted with mild amusement. "Certainly, there are people who would consider half past three in the morning _late_ instead of early."

"I've had those days, too," Kyon observed wryly, "although fortunately not that often as of late."

They were sitting in his car, a blue Honda hatchback, heading east along the coastal highway after he had picked her up from her apartment. At this hour there was hardly any traffic at all on the road other than the occasional truck, giving the sparsely lit landscape an unusual, slightly eerie quality.

He had called her the previous afternoon to tell the exact time of the appointment and advised her to wear something suitable for off-road hiking. Although she hadn't mentioned it, the latter part had posed a minor problem since her current wardrobe didn't exactly contain a set with those qualifications. After some consideration a mid-season windbreaker and a pair of almost unused sports shoes, which she had bought more with optimistic intentions than out of actual necessity, were given the order to yield for the greater good.

"I hope that this wasn't too much of a burden on you," he continued, "and I should've been more clear from the beginning. Unfortunately, I don't have any say over this particular schedule."

"Oh no, this isn't a burden at all!" she demurred. "If anything, such a rigid requirement only makes the implied mystery that much more intriguing. On the surface of it, one might think that our destination would be some distant location if we have to wake up this early. However, since you didn't ask anything about my afternoon schedule, it means that the destination must be relatively close, and there is some external factor necessitating such an early start. But even if this is a true inference, I cannot think of an object that would fit those criteria."

"I thought that we had agreed that the great detective is just a myth, but if you continue at that rate you'll probably figure out the surprise before it has a chance to happen," he chuckled. "Anyway — you're right, we are only going as far as to Awaji, so this shouldn't interfere with anything that you've planned for the afternoon."

She refrained from admitting that she didn't have anything planned for the afternoon, and in fact she would have been completely happy if the trip _had_ taken a whole day, but saying so would have been inconsiderate since he was already putting so much effort to the surprise.

Now that she thought about it, wasn't it the case that she _should_ have had a plan — specifically, one related to reciprocating his effort? However, she couldn't think of anything even remotely comparable, and that made her feel slightly disheartened.

She had noticed earlier that the back of the car seemed to serve as a storage for an eclectic collection of items. Looking around, in this light she could discern a number of books and binders piled on top of each other in a jumble and couldn't escape the impression that some of them might have been moved there quite recently to make room for a front seat passenger.

In a job like his, it probably made sense to use the car as a makeshift portable office. An unruly idea popped into her mind and she wondered what it would feel like if she could do the same. She couldn't help smiling at the absurdity of the image of driving out of the office on top of her desk, to the bewilderment of her co-workers, but then reality caught up with her in the form of a reminder about the situation at work and made the smile fade as fast as it had appeared.

"Is there a problem with it?" he suddenly asked.

"A problem with what?"

"I mentioned that we're going to Awaji. Is that a problem for you?" he continued in a concerned voice.

"Oh, that. No, not at all! I am sorry if I gave such an impression by letting work-related issues distract myself at an unfortunate moment," she explained.

"An interesting project, perhaps?"

"Quite the contrary. We are having a number of changes in the management, and while the results of that are yet to be seen, I cannot pretend to be overtly optimistic about the direction of the change. On the face of it, I should probably be content that I got to keep my current assignments."

She sighed and shrugged in a conceding manner. "But I must apologize for my lack of tact; I shouldn't bother you with such issues."

"I'm only too happy to listen," he said. "Of course, provided that you want to talk about that."

She turned to look at him. It had been an earnest statement, not just a platitude, and she knew that he meant every part of it.

Thinking about it, she realized that while Kyon might appear somewhat oblivious at a casual glance, in reality he was just as astute an observer as she was herself; where she was driven by a desire to understand what made people tick, he did it because he genuinely _cared_ about other people as individuals. And that was why he had immediately picked up on her consternation even if he couldn't know its cause….

She kept looking at his solemn face, and a new thought surfaced; this one was certainly much happier than anything work related, and it made her smile again. That feeling turned into exhilaration when she saw an almost imperceptible change in his expression, indicating that he had noticed her mood change even without diverting his gaze from the road, and was politely waiting for an explanation.

"I wouldn't want to waste your time by talking about something as banal as problems at my workplace," she said, "but it would also be disingenuous of me to insist that the topic should be avoided since I already broached it. However, I was then reminded of the fact that there is something inherently familiar in this situation.

"When we were younger, I was often given a lift at the back of your bicycle. Compared to that, only the means of transportation has changed, but you are still carrying me around. I can only hope that this alternative is easier on you."

"I can't claim that you'd been a burden back then, either," he objected. "And anyway, that's just common courtesy."

"But that is exactly the issue. Sometimes commonplace things are the hardest to notice, and that is why I may have made a trivial error in judgement, one that is only apparent in hindsight.

"While this current arrangement is one of strict necessity, as I don't have a car or even a driver's license, I imagine that it wouldn't have been physically impossible for me to carry you at the back of a bicycle instead of the other way round. Could the fact that you never insisted that we should take turns at pedaling be seen as a tacit acknowledgement of a social convention postulating that particular arrangement — because I was a girl?"

He furrowed his brow. "Uh, wasn't that quite obvious?"

"Thus, it is indeed as I thought, and that makes me glad. But, at the same time it appears to me that you are underestimating the ability of a teenage girl to feel insecure about her personality despite displaying an external image of confidence."

"You _really_ thought that I might take you for a boy?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Ah, no—" She laughed softly. "It would certainly have been facetious to propose such a thing. The category I had in mind was more like 'one of me'. As silly as it may sound on the face of it, while I was happy to find out that you spontaneously accepted me the way I was, it didn't exclude the possibility of that me occupying a slot somewhere between a kappa and a tsuchinoko snake in your mental hierarchy."

He clutched the bridge of his nose with one hand. "I don't even know where to begin…."

"Considering that it was me projecting my own issues into the situation, there is hardly a need for you to explain yourself," she mused. "And in any case, we shouldn't judge our younger selves too harshly since they managed to get along rather well despite any perceived shortcomings, don't you agree? This should be an unquestionable conclusion if we can still call each other friends with good conscience."

"Now, look—" he said, still rubbing his brow, which made Sasaki glad that the road ahead was straight and devoid of traffic. "Of _course_ I accept you the way you are, there wasn't ever any question about that. Even if you are unlike any other person I know, it doesn't mean that I'd see you as some alien life form! You are just ... you."

"I must confess that to me you are likewise in a category of your own among the persons that I know — and at the same time I am quite certain that you would treat even an alien life form with the same respect and consideration that you show to your friends. However, that is not the issue I had in my mind.

"People identify each other based on the unique combination of qualities that defines a person. When considered from that point of view, it is evident that people indeed have a separate category for each person that they know. Regardless of that, I am simply happy to know that in the Venn diagram depicting the qualities that constitute 'me', and those of 'a human female', you don't consider the intersection of the two to be an empty set."

"What does that even—" he started, before snapping his mouth shut and lapsing into apparent contemplation.

During the ensuing silence Sasaki slowly sank deeper into her seat while appraising the feeling that the conversation had triggered. She had _known_, even back then, how rare a trait Kyon's propensity to see all people as individuals instead of representatives of a class was. Still, somehow, she had managed to convince herself that he had made an exception just for her — but he hadn't!

It was such an apparently trivial thing that the amount of happiness derived from the realization seemed to be slightly out of proportion.

The road curved gently to the left and, after automatic toll gates, turned into a colossal suspension bridge over Osaka Bay, connecting mainland to Awaji Island. Although there was still some time until the dawn, complete darkness had already given way to steel-gray light that revealed the churning waves far below.

That reminded Sasaki of the Naruto whirlpools on the other side of the island. While they were a rather impressive sight, it didn't appear likely that they would be what Kyon had in mind if there was a strict schedule for the trip.

He stole a glance in her direction and, after noticing that she was still anticipating his reply, gave her a wry smile.

"I was also just reminded of something that I had almost forgotten. Complacency in a conversation with you is like pitting a bunch of elementary school kids against the Hanshin Tigers and expecting a fair chance of winning," he explained.

"I am sorry if I presented my view in a confrontational manner. I wouldn't want to see a conversation between us two to become any kind of a competition. Surely, there couldn't be any winners in such a situation."

"A baseball game was probably a poor analogue, but still — wasn't there some psychological theorem about how highly competent persons have unrealistic expectations of the abilities of other people, just like incompetent persons have unrealistic expectations of their own abilities?"

"That would be the Dunning-Kruger effect," she noted, cocking her head to the side. "I see. So, you are saying that just by being myself, my actions can be perceived as a challenge by other people, but since I am not a competitive person myself I may fail to notice the involuntary effect I have on others?"

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but it sounds true as well," he acknowledged.

Tanaka's poorly veiled gloating after his promotion to the head of department was announced came to Sasaki's mind. It had initially puzzled her because she hadn't even wanted the position, but when seen from this point of view….

"Yes, unfortunately I believe that it is indeed a valid observation," she said with a sigh. "However, I must also point out that as far as I remember you have never treated me that way."

"Maybe I never had unrealistic expectations of my chances to challenge you on any particular topic?" he suggested, clearly in jest as betrayed by his self-effacing smile. "But now that the issue has been mentioned, I'm indeed in a competitive mood."

"You are?" Sasaki was slightly shaken. "I wouldn't have thought—"

"I feel like competing with _myself_ on not making unwarranted assumptions about anything related to you. Even if you are wary of being in a category of your own, the truth is that you _are_, and that is completely regardless of the theory that we talked about the other day. I may be wrong on many other things but this one looks pretty obvious.

"I could just as well play pachinko as try to guess how you see any particular issue based on what I know about people in general. So, instead of guessing, I should just … ask."

"Oh." Sasaki felt so surprised that the utterance was involuntary. This was _not_ spoken by the indecisive young man she had known in middle school, the one who was content to just quietly observe on the sidelines and let things happen on their own accord. And still….

She had been watching the ever-changing surface of the ocean in contemplation, but now she raised her gaze to meet his. She could recognize this new Kyon, but at the same time the old one was still there as well. Whatever the change, it was not for the worse.

Seeing an implicit question in his expression, she smiled back. "I wouldn't mind that at all."

Another moment of silence followed, but this one felt _right_ — lingering around without demanding anything. In a sense it was like a return to those less complicated times she had been thinking about so much these last days. The universe shrunk until it fitted inside this small car, suspended on a thin strip between the boundless sky and sea.

After a while they reached the far end of the bridge and turned left from the first junction, down a slope toward the waterfront.

"We are almost there," he said, as the car reached the shoreline.

The road cut through a copse of squat trees, and after one more turn led to a large parking lot, completely vacant at such an hour.

"This is the Akashi-Kaikyo park, isn't it?" she asked, after he had parked the car next to a fence at the far end of the lot and they had stepped out in the chilly pre-dawn breeze.

"That's right. Most of the park is only open during the daytime, but the area around us is freely accessible."

Sasaki looked around. Other than the silhouettes of playground equipment standing in the open area between the lot and the beach like a curious congregation of prehistoric beasts, the place appeared completely nondescript. Certainly, a nearby governmental park wouldn't have been high on her list of potential places to look for the extraordinary, even in the middle of the night.

"Eh, this isn't the place I had in mind. We'll still have to walk a bit," he said, noticing her confused look.

They walked past the playground and found a walkway running parallel to the waterline. Not wanting to spoil the surprise by any inadvertent questions, Sasaki deliberately refrained from talking as they headed south along the path.

Besides the area being dark, it was also surprisingly silent this far away from the urban sprawl. The only noises she could hear were their own footsteps in the sand, the slow breathing of the sea and the melancholy warbling of a bird somewhere in the thicket.

She tried to imagine what the place would look like during the day when it was full of people, activity and the excited laughter of children as they climbed up and down monkey bars, but all that felt oddly foreign and distant to the landscape looming around them in this dim and colorless light. It was almost as if there were two different parks existing in parallel universes, unaware of each other's existence. Now that she thought about it, it reminded her of….

The thought sent shivers down her spine and she was suddenly immensely grateful that she wasn't alone. No, that wasn't it — she was grateful that _he_ was there with her. For a fleeting moment she felt an urge to touch him, to ascertain that his presence wasn't an illusion, but then she realized what it would look like and silently chided herself for being so sentimental.

After walking up the side of a gently sloping knoll they arrived at a ledge that formed a natural promontory with an unrestricted view over the Osaka Bay.

"This is probably the best place," he said, stopping to check his phone. "Looks like we've got perfect timing — it should be any moment now."

Sasaki felt intrigued by the scene, but at the same time also deeply puzzled. What could they possibly be waiting for at a place like this? Other than the dark shape of the island behind their back and the hypnotic heaving of ocean waves, there didn't appear to be anything at all to be observed.

Not knowing what to expect, she let her gaze wander around. There was a blinking light on the horizon she followed for a moment before realizing that it was just an airplane, probably on approach to Kansai. She imagined a plane full of fatigued passengers in their confined seats, impatiently checking their watches for the end of the tribulation and a chance to get home after an arduous business trip. The iconic connotations of that situation might be suitable for a project she was working on right now….

She shook her head in slight reprimand, reminding herself that she shouldn't let work issues distract herself at a moment like this, especially since the image she had in mind made her own tiny apartment appear more like a place to store items than something that one would call a home. Well, that was too bad, wasn't it?

And then it happened.

The eastern horizon burst open and a stripe of pure light in the form of glowing, impossibly green quicksilver spilled into the world. Quivering like a living being, it shot a narrow pillar of light high on the dull sky to herald its unbridled presence.

Just for a heartbeat, the apparition transformed the world into an abstract painting of light. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the pillar collapsed and the rupture lost its otherworldly lustre. In its place, the sun rose.

Transfixed by the ephemeral beauty of the scene, she reveled in silent appreciation until noticing how Kyon stole a discreet sideways glance to gauge her reaction.

"That was a green flash, wasn't it?" she asked, in the hope of making the magical moment last just a little bit longer.

"I should've known that you'd recognize it. The pillar was unusual — maybe something in the air, but other than that — right, it was just another green flash," he said in an understated voice. "Maybe I got your hopes up for nothing?"

"That is not true at all!" she objected vigorously while trying to sort out her thoughts. "That was the most amazing thing I have seen for — I don't even know how long. I knew that such a phenomenon exists but I had always thought that you would have to travel to some exotic faraway location to see it. It is astounding to see one so close to home."

"I used to think that way, too," he admitted with a chuckle, "and in fact the first one I saw happened in Vanuatu, which should indeed qualify as a faraway place pretty much regardless of where you live. It was only later when I found out that it can be seen here as well.

"At one point in my life I used to have sleeping troubles, so I often walked around the neighborhood at night. This area is especially tranquil so I liked to come here for a walk, but there isn't anything special to the discovery itself. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time."

The intensity of the emotion triggered by his words caught Sasaki unaware. The implied reason behind his sleeplessness and nightly walks resonated with her own sense of loneliness and she suddenly knew with breathtaking certainty that she would hug him regardless of consequences if he gave her the slightest excuse to do so. The possibility of losing her usual self-restraint in such a way was an idea she found at the same time disconcerting and fascinating.

But — since she was with Kyon there wouldn't be an excuse forthcoming, would there? He hadn't brought her here with any hidden motives in mind, or mentioned his lonely walks in order to garner pity. She stole a reassuring glance at the man by her side, who was watching the sunrise in apparent contemplation, unaware of her internal turmoil.

Indeed, he was simply sharing his own experiences because he was considerate, and had thought that those might make _her_ happier, without realizing how wildly successful that attempt had been.

And on that regard — it was also rather unfair to him that he didn't know, but the only option to express herself in a way that would be true to the gratitude she was feeling would be … to hug him. It wasn't that she wouldn't have wanted to; she certainly did, but couldn't, because there was yet another facet to the situation. While they were seemingly alone on this promontory, it was only true in a strictly physical sense.

This place and the moment had a special meaning to him, one that she could surmise with relative certainty, and out of respect to those memories she couldn't possibly usurp them. There was time and place for everything, and although she had been invited to share this one it didn't mean that she could make it her own. Like any mindful guest, she would show proper respect.

Still, she couldn't help wondering what it would be like. Even if she couldn't remember it — if they had been together for so long, would her body somehow recognize the sensation, or had she lost everything from her previous life? If this life was the best of all the ones she could have had, was it selfish and greedy to ask for more?

She examined her feelings and decided that it didn't matter either way. She was happy to be here, right now; there wasn't a place in the world where she would rather have been. As far as she was concerned, this was a perfect moment. She wrapped her arms around her body to keep that warm feeling close to her heart.

"Are you cold?" he asked with a hint of genuine concern in his voice.

"Maybe just a little," she admitted. "Even if the day will be warm, this early in the morning the sun is still so close to the horizon that the air remains chilly."

He seemed to hesitate, and for a moment she thought that he might offer his coat to her — a temptation that could be inordinately hard to resist even if she really should.

"Well — I brought coffee in a thermos, but we'll have to walk back to the car for it," he said, almost apologetically.

She couldn't help smiling unreservedly. "Coffee sounds fine, and I don't mind the walk at all. And, Kyon…."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"It is inadequate of me to just say this, but — thank you for bringing me here; it was indeed an extraordinary experience. However, it has also left me woefully unable to return the favor in a way that would do it proper justice."

"That's not—" he said, scratching the back of his head. "I mean, if you found the trip worth making then that's good enough for me."

"I knew you would see it like that, and it reassures me greatly that you do. But if we both can accept that this is the case, then maybe an opportunity will eventually present itself?"

He looked at the sea for a moment before giving her an amiable smile. "We can always hope so."

As they turned around to return to the car, Sasaki was surprised to see how different the place looked in sunlight, and it reminded her of a thought she had had earlier.

"This may sound like a weird question, but it is of some importance to me," she said after a moment of reflection. "You have told me that Tachibana-san once took you to a separate world that was allegedly created by me. A 'closed space' was the name that you used."

"Yes, that's right."

"Could you tell me what it looked like?"

"As far as I remember, it was just like the real world, except without people. And instead of a sun, there was ambient light that lingered around like fog. However, unlike our world it felt … static. Immutable."

He scratched his chin in contemplation. "I can't remember any particular details — was that good enough?"

She pondered his words as the walked down the path. "Every now and then, but most often when I feel unsure about my aim in life, I have this recurring nightmare. In it, I find myself in a world that looks just like our own, but I am the only living being in it. I don't know how I can be so sure, but I am absolutely certain of the fact that there has never been, and will never be anyone else in that whole world, and that makes me feel as if my heart were freezing.

"Solitude in the scale of an entire universe — the mere idea is so devastating that it wakes me up in the middle of the night, and I have to walk to the window to check that the world is still going about its chores as usual. And still — it always makes me feel miserable for the rest of the day, as if that place had an independent existence, patiently waiting for a time when I wouldn't wake up any more.

"I wonder … what if that closed space is still here, around us, even if we cannot see it? I find the thought deeply unsettling, but there is little I can do about it."

He gave her an unusually concerned look and hesitated before answering. "I cannot know for sure, but I find it hard to believe that such a thing would continue to exist if its only purpose is to cause grief."

"I would like to think the same way, but how could I be certain? Even back then, when you visited that place, how could it exist as some kind of an extension of my psyche if I didn't have any supernatural powers at that time?"

"I … hadn't thought about that. Now that you mentioned it, it does indeed sound odd," he mused.

"Did you ever directly observe Suzumiya-san creating closed space?"

"Of course not, closed space could only be detected by…." He stopped cold. "Wait, are you saying that it was actually _espers_ who created closed space?"

"It looks like a plausible explanation to me. If a phenomenon can never be observed without the presence of a particular agent, then a natural hypothesis is that the agent in question is an essential component of that phenomenon."

"But Koizumi said— And I swallowed that hook, line and sinker!"

For the second time during the trip, Kyon rubbed his brow in exasperation. Sasaki wasn't quite sure whether she should be impressed or concerned.

"Of course, it could be more complicated than that," she suggested. "When we think about a musical performance, who actually creates it — the person who composed the piece, or the person who gives it an audible form through playing it? It appears to me that both of them have a reasonable claim to being a part of the creative process."

"You mean that what we call an esper could be some sort of a demiurge, turning the thoughts of his master into a physical form?" He reflected on the idea for a moment. "Yes, I see how it could make sense, but I can't think of any way to prove it one way or another."

She sighed. "I can't help feeling that we are like two Heian era people trying to guess the mood of Amaterasu-oumikami after witnessing a solar eclipse. Despite there being an entirely logical and irrefutable chain of evidence leading from that simple observation to modern astrophysics and orbital mechanics, the path is so long and far beyond their comprehension that it could just as well not even exist."

"That sounds a bit like a cargo cult," he chuckled.

"Indeed, now I remember that you have written an article on those as well. You mentioned having been on Vanuatu; was that when you were doing research on that topic?"

"That's right. I found the concept interesting and managed to secure some extra funding for the work from an ethnographical institute. Cargo cults are sometimes mentioned as a counter-example for refuting the supernatural component of belief systems, which in my opinion misses the point."

"When you think about it, the very definition of supernatural is deceptive, as if we already knew everything about nature. So, I wonder — if an interstellar traveler without any knowledge of the human civilization were to see a cargo cult shrine, would he be able to infer the existence of seaplanes, radios or military rifles based on that?"

She reflected on this. "I agree with the idea that the division of our experiences into natural and supernatural tells little about the phenomena themselves, and more about our understanding of them. Still, even if we fail to comprehend the essence of a phenomenon, the analogy that we create to describe it might be useful for someone else with better understanding.

"That actually reminds me of the similarity between karmic connections and quantum entanglement. Maybe two completely separate paradigms can sometimes converge on an inherent property of existence, even by accident?"

"Karma sounds fine, but quantum mechanics just gives me headache. The whole idea feels more suspicious than a purported photo of the Isshii lake monster," he quipped. "However, if I'm to believe scientists, even my phone wouldn't work without it."

"That is actually an important philosophical issue," she noted. "Quantum mechanics is so far outside the human realm of experience that on a fundamental level, nobody _really_ understands it. When people talk about wave-particle duality, many forget that there are neither waves nor particles, only something that acts approximately like one or the other depending on how we look at it.

"Waves and particles are only models that we use to explain the observable behavior of microscopic entities, but what they actually are — we have no idea. We can use computers to predict the behavior of matter with astonishing precision," she said, waving her hand, "but its true nature is still an impenetrable mystery.

"If I can't even explain my own hands, how much more difficult it is to discuss something that appears utterly impossible to our limited understanding? Thus, regardless of how rational one is, beyond a certain point the only thing left is belief."

They had reached the parking lot while talking. Kyon fished a bag out of the pile of items at the back of the car and produced a thermos and two plastic mugs. "If I got to choose, right now I'd believe in coffee."

"Always the pragmatic one," she laughed. "But — I appreciate that, and the coffee as well."

"There might be sugar cubes in the glovebox," he said, nodding towards the front seat. "Other than that, I can provide coffee in any variety as long as it's black."

They leaned against the car and enjoyed the early morning scenery. There was dew on the ground, giving grass a silvery sheen. Fine mist rose up in the air as if the ground were breathing.

"I went to visit my mother yesterday," Sasaki said after a while. "We talked about my childhood and looked at photos in family albums. She also gave me a box of my old items that she had been storing. I brought it home but didn't have time to open it yet. But even with such tangible evidence, there is doubt.

"Of course I didn't mention it to her, but all that time I wondered whether those photos and memories were true. Did I ever have an actual childhood or was this me created at some later moment, with false memories of a past that never existed? Is the person whom I call my mother really that, or was she also created at the same time? How far back does that chain go?

"I have one particularly clear memory of being taken to a beach by my parents when I was about five or six years old. While we were there, my father bought me an ice cream. It was such a rare treat that I tried to eat it as slowly as possible, but since it was a sunny day, before I was even halfway through it melted and dropped in the sand.

"I can't remember what that ice cream tasted like, but the taste of chagrin in my mouth as I watched the spoiled ice cream is still palpable. Was that a real memory, or a false one? Was it created to illustrate the principles of dharma, or was it just a random occurrence without deeper meaning?

"Even beyond that, what does it actually mean that 'I' was created? Even if there is a shared stream of consciousness, how could one claim that the 'I' from before and this 'me' are the same person to a meaningful degree, if we don't share any recognizable qualities?"

"I can certainly sympathize," he noted. "I've been wrestling with my own doubts as long as I can remember. I'm almost tempted to say that the price of awareness is eternal uncertainty."

She stopped in mid-thought and smiled. "But of course. Mu!"

"Mu what?" he asked, perplexed.

"Does a fairy have a Buddha-nature?" The question was so absurd that she felt like laughing.

He smiled back as the realization dawned. "If I remember correctly, it was a dog Joushuu talked about. But — you're right, the answer would have to be 'mu'."

"So, if the question itself leads us astray," she mused, "we must un-ask the question."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.

"Whatever I may have been earlier, it is an undeniable fact that right now I am 100% a human being. The past is only relevant to the degree it helps me understand this condition.

"If the uncertainty about my past is making me feel rootless, it would be a delusion to believe that other people are better off just by the virtue of having been around a little longer. Instead, it should be seen as an invitation to grow my roots in a place that accepts them.

"If I have been feeling that there is a hole in my life, it would be a delusion to search the past for the missing piece, because, even if such a piece could be found, its proper place would be in the past instead of the present. All that we have is the now-moment.

"And, if I have been content to take a lack of unhappiness for happiness, then maybe that is just a part of my nature. But if true happiness comes from aligning oneself with a purpose, it is also an invitation to finding that purpose. It would be a delusion to shun bright daylight just because it makes the dawn pale in comparison. There is a time and place for both.

"And this is why I am so grateful to be right here, right now, with you."

"…that was consummate," he avouched, after a moment of silence.

A brisk breeze from the ocean was playing with her hair and making her neck tickle. She could sense the familiar feeling of her mind going slightly out of focus, but this time it was not accompanied with the usual edge of cold, analytical logic.

A thought occurred, and it made her laugh softly. "Certainly, I must have been a lousy magical girl."

He chuckled in response. "I couldn't say."

They watched the sun, now bright and well above the horizon, illuminating this human world, every second an endless procession of perfect moments.

"It's going to be a fine day," he eventually said, finishing his coffee.

"Yes. I think I can believe in that," she answered.


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting at his desk in his own apartment, Kyon couldn't help but think of his recent visit to an old friend's place. He should have been focusing on an article, and his laptop had all of his transcribed notes from his last 'investigation' before him, but comparison between her place and his felt inevitable. They weren't exact opposites, but there were few similarities between them.

The space he had to use was slightly larger than hers, but he suspected the real estate value was less despite that. He lived in an uninteresting area, mostly surrounded by college students or young salary-men and office ladies preparing to move up in the world. It was a quiet neighborhood, not nearly as developed as the downtown district where her apartment was situated.

Looking around, the walls were almost all lined with bookshelves. Some small bits of space here and there were occupied by pictures, the most notable of them being a Hokusai reproduction. It was probably one of the best known examples, 'The Great Wave off Kanagawa,' and a gift from his parents to help make his apartment feel more like a home once he'd settled in. The bookshelves themselves were crammed full of notebooks and reference texts, binders of photographs, envelopes, and various trinkets and mementos from his work.

It was all as neatly organized as he could manage, but he still felt a strong temptation to clean anyway. Then again, considering the guest he was anticipating at some only vaguely specified time, she'd spot or deduce anything he did to change the setup. The desire to make the place look more presentable warred briefly with the urge to leave things as they were and show the truth of his home.

Either indifferent to the turmoil, or in commiseration, the tri-colored cat that had been in his company for slightly over a decade padded into the room and unhesitatingly hopped into his lap.

He shook his head and scratched the feline behind his ears before the doorbell rang. Just as well!

Pushing away from the desk, he closed the lid of his laptop and carefully set Shamisen next to it, the cat settling back to watch him and lashing his tail. It was only a few steps around the kotatsu that took most of the living room floor up to reach the door, and he opened it, prepared to apologize for a delay as he gathered his wallet and car keys.

But judging by Sasaki's mischievous smile and the bag of takeout in her hand, they wouldn't be going anywhere.

"Turnabout is fair play," he mused aloud, before shaking his head and inviting her in properly. "It's good to see you again, as always, Sasaki."

"Pardon my intrusion; it's good to see you as well Kyon," she answered, stepping in and slipping her shoes off. Her eyes went first to the kotatsu, where she set the bag down, and then to the crowded shelves, taking in all the details, one object of curiosity at a time. He realized belatedly she'd brought two bags, though he was uncertain of the contents.

"I suppose that it would be somewhat nonsensical to expect you to take the train all the way here, just for us to drive somewhere," he added with a shrug. "Eh, my skills haven't improved very much, but I'll put on some tea. What did you bring?"

"It's only curry," she said, somewhat apologetically. "I had considered something closer to where I live, as I know the area better, but given the length of the trip, would not be able to guarantee it would arrive in good condition. This was the best compromise of being nearby and well rated, at least, according to the information I was able to look up on my phone."

He nodded, stepping into the kitchen.

Glancing at the teapot he'd already set up, she noted, "But for all of my intent to visit your home as a pleasant surprise, I see you anticipated this already. Hmm, has the trope of the great detective once again come into play?"

"It seems to be a bit of recurring theme." He couldn't help but chuckle as he switched the kettle on. "But in truth, I've only set the teapot up; I hadn't set it to heat in advance. It was less of any deduction and more an expectation that I should prepare for any possibility. Wouldn't it be a presumption if I had completely planned on your generosity?"

"Ah," she sighed, still smiling. "Well, it appears my hope of surprising you was not to be — but then, I am also glad that I was able to break from the suggested path without it being unwelcome, either. Oh! There is one other thing—"

He looked up curiously, but she merely winked before retreating to the front room. Shrugging, he turned his attention back to the kettle. When he turned back, she had returned, holding up a much smaller bag with a box inside.

"As it was forgotten last time, yukimi daifuku!" she explained.

He shook his head wryly, accepting it with a wry grin. "That, I _had_ forgotten," he admitted, stowing it in the freezer for later. "Something to look forward to for later. In the meantime…." He turned the stove off and carefully poured the hot water over the tea leaves.

The two of them returned to the front room, each taking a cushion on opposite sides of the table. She moved one of the plastic bags from the space between them to the floor, making him wonder at the contents, but his attention was quickly taken by the takeout containers she set before each of them. "I hope it's good," she added, "though, it's likely to be better than anything I could actually make."

"I'm hardly a world class chef myself," he assured her. "Hmm, I tried my hand in college, and am evidently 'passable' in most regards, but otherwise, have inherited my mother's cooking skills. So, I can't think there's any shame in utilizing the same cooking technique I generally rely on."

She tilted her head slightly to one side, her attention still being drawn to the shelves.

"Something wrong?" he wondered, before opening the container before him.

She shook her head. "Ah, no," she said. "Not 'wrong.' I was just thinking that your home is almost precisely what I'd expected."

Raising an eyebrow, he followed her gaze to a piece of shimenawa he'd been left with from a visit to a shrine in years past. The length of braided straw rope still had the zig-zagging white paper shide strips hanging from it at regular intervals. "Is that out of place?" he wondered.

"Well, to be honest, I thought you might have had a full harai gushi!" she exclaimed.

He shrugged good-naturedly. "I don't know that I need to ritually purify anything, and I'm not any sort of priest anyway," he demurred. "I didn't mind accepting the rope. In fact, the priest who insisted I take it wanted it put in my car. I relocated it here, but couldn't throw it away if it was so meaningful to him."

"So now it protects your notebooks from evil spirits?" she teased gently.

"Well, there's a picture of Imouto back there, too, so it might actually be a barrier protecting me, and holding her evil in check!"

"I thought she was quite charming," Sasaki countered, shaking her head and turning her attention back to Kyon. "Ah, but what I meant to say is that your home feels very inviting." She paused, touching a fingertip to her cheek. "Hmm, I think I got to visit your room once when you were attending Kitago? Even though it had been a long time since I'd seen it, the same feeling from our study sessions before that remained — and now it's here."

He scratched the back of his head, considering that. "I never really thought about it," he admitted. "Still, to hear that — it's quite flattering." He poured tea for both of them from the kettle, deciding it had steeped long enough. "Shamisen must have decided it's nap-time," he added, indicating the corner with the computer desk, where the feline had arranged itself across the closed laptop, to better absorb the heat it was still radiating.

"Well, I wanted to see your room again," she admitted, giving a small shrug. "And I'm grateful for the opportunity, even if your cat is too tired to visit!"

"It's not much, but I'm happy if you think it's enough, Sasaki," he said mildly, as she opened her container.

He quickly followed suit, and they called the traditional, "Itadakimasu," together before sampling the curry and rice within.

It was what he'd expected; the place she'd gone was within walking distance, and he ended up going there himself about once every other week. It wasn't bad, in any case. "Thank you again for bringing this," he added. As it had been a few days since their excursion to see the green flash, he wondered, "The last time we spoke, your work was troubling you. Is it going any better?"

"Ah," she said thoughtfully, sipping her tea as her demeanor became more subdued. "It has not gotten worse," she said carefully. "I had mentioned that the ultimate outcome of some changes in the department structure had not yet become clear. I have not yet lost any of my current assignments, but I strongly suspect it will become exceedingly difficult to find new ones once they are completed."

She gave a small sigh and shrugged.

"Oh, well, too bad. At least I'll be able to finish what I started," she concluded.

After sampling a few more bites, he topped off the tea in her cup and sat back slightly, regarding her wordlessly.

"Ah, that look," she said with a small smile. "You want to say something, but don't know how to say it— Would that be correct?"

"As usual, there's no reason to try and hide anything from you," he agreed with a shrug. "The thought I have is that this may represent an opportunity for you. Well, you have said you haven't been doing what you would like to do — so why not look at it as an opportunity? Finish your current assignments and see if there's not some other option to pursue?"

She leaned back from her own meal slightly, taking the warm teacup in her hands contemplatively. The faintest wisps of steam escaped it as her expression became thoughtful. "It's true that I have said that, but initiative is different from desire. But you're also right that the current situation provides initiative itself. I suppose then that you would provide the impetus to take that initiative?"

"Uh, well, that seems to be thinking about it harder than I would," he said with a chuckle, "but if that works for you, I'm happy to be of service. That being said, what have you considered doing?"

"The real issue is that I enjoy the work I do, even if I don't particularly care about how it's being used at the moment," she continued. "Consider it as someone who makes tools for someone else to use, and doesn't approve of the current implementation — like a swordscrafter who is unhappy with how the products of their trade are applied?"

"I understand that," he agreed, nodding.

"So I would like to do the same thing I already do, though I would not object to being part of a more unified team; competition should be between the company and what it wants to face. That is to say, I think effort between people who should be working together to compete is a waste of energy; it's counterproductive and leads to a less efficient performance for all.

"But in an environment such as the ones my role would be most helpful in, that level of personal competition is often seen as synonymous with the features that define a successful individual!" she continued, shrugging and spreading her hands helplessly, as if to ask, 'what can you do?'

Scratching his head, he agreed, "I read somewhere that people who were bullies in high-school often are the types that become management. There must be common subconscious elements in people that respond to social situations the same way. Someone who's popular in class…." He trailed off and shrugged himself, despite her emphatic nodding. While he had a fair grasp of the subject, by his thinking, she was an expert in the field, and he'd just as soon let her complete the thought to avoid embarrassing himself by stating something incorrect.

"That's precisely it," she agreed. "I admit, I hadn't thought closely about it, as I focused much more on doing the work itself, but over the last few weeks it has become exceptionally obvious. In any case, what sort of place would I be able to do the work I enjoy, and not be as likely to encounter that sort of mindset?"

"Something that would appear externally uncompetitive," he suggested thoughtfully, taking another bite from his dish.

"That was my thought as well," she agreed. "However, it seems to me that the ideal environment for it would be assisting a charitable organization."

He froze, chopsticks half way to his mouth, and lowered it, brow furrowing in confusion. "That seems a noble goal, but would your skills be useful there?" he asked uncertainly.

"I believe they might," she said with a cautious smile. "Advertising for a cause like that seems more worthwhile in any case. At the least, I would be able to feel better about what I do; as it does, even if the scale is scarcely comparable, I am made to think of how chagrined I would be if my name were to become attached to the studies I do. Certainly, someone who had worked on the Manhattan Project could not be pleased to realize that regardless of what else they chose to do or how nice they were, their names were eternally linked to such carnage and devastation."

"Ah," he sighed, giving her an encouraging nod. "I can certainly understand why you would want to advocate some cause or another, instead of what you do. Having your name tied with some noble cause would certainly result in a more positive feeling — but what did you have in mind?"

"Well, since non-profit organizations have become more favorable to the government in recent years — especially following natural disasters — I've considered advocating for disaster relief programs," she explained. "They tend to gain a lot of support immediately after something goes wrong, but only for a brief period. It's important to keep awareness of such things always in mind, not just at troubling times!"

"Like when the Japanese Red Cross is flooded with blood donors immediately after an earthquake, and then suffers a lack of them in the following months when the unused donations spoil?" he wondered. He'd only read about that a few weeks ago, so the article was still recent in his mind.

She was nearly beaming at him as she nodded. "Precisely!" she agreed. "Then I would be able to both do something I enjoyed, and feel it was for a better cause!"

He rubbed his chin and nodded. It would probably be quite a challenge, but also something he expected she would enjoy. "I'm glad for you that's what you've chosen to do, then!" he encouraged, finishing the last of his curry and closing the container.

She blinked, mid-chew, then swallowed and made a face. "It's a thought, but I don't know if I could really do that," she demurred. "Even if I would enjoy it—"

"Well, why not?" he objected, raising an eyebrow. "You're unhappy at your current workplace, and it's becoming less hospitable — so why stay instead of pursuing the opportunity you want to?"

Turning her attention to her dinner, she took a few more bites, slowly mulling it over. He excused himself to refill the teapot. By the time he'd finished changing the leaves and heating the water, she'd finished her curry and brought both containers to the kitchen, placing them in the Shamisen-resistant covered rubbish bin.

"It's a thought I can't deny the appeal of," she admitted, as he brought the fresh tea out, and she followed with the daifuku. "I suppose I can't deny the logic of the suggestion!"

"I only suggested you do what you seem to want to do anyway," he noted, as they returned to the living room. When he set down the kettle and retook his seat, she hesitated a moment, then chose the side to his left instead of opposite him.

"I suppose that's true," she allowed, presenting him with first choice of the chilled treats.

He took one of the pair of plastic picks in the container and carefully speared one of the treats, tasting the mochi of the outer surface, and the vanilla ice cream inside. He couldn't help but think of the brief story she had related on the beach — of the ice cream she had lost on the beach. She had mentioned the taste of loss she said she recalled more clearly than the treat itself—

She gave a wry smile, shrugging as she took the other pick and deftly took one for herself as well. "I should well know the regret of _not_ doing so. It feels both sudden, and as though it were something I was already trying to gain the courage for, but thanks to discussing it with you, I feel more confident about it!"

"Just like that?" he wondered.

"You are proof positive that you can pursue the path in life you want to," she countered. "I suppose I merely wanted additional encouragement!"

He scratched the back of his head at that, feeling his face warm up. "If I somehow was able to help, then I am flattered to have been of use, Sasaki," he chuckled.

"Of course … the larger charities are all located in Kyoto or Tokyo, but as things stand it would be no effort to move…" she mused, tilting her head slightly to one side. "It was actually Minato-Ku, in Tokyo for the one that especially appealed to me; they announced an opening not long ago, which is why the entire thing came to mind."

That was a detail he hadn't much considered, but also made sense for international organizations. Despite the thought that it would move her far enough away that they wouldn't get many chances to visit, he encouraged her, "That sounds like a good fit for what you had hoped to do, then."

"Perhaps!" She looked speculative for a moment, then turned to the bag she'd left on the floor. "I mentioned that I had visited my mother to collect some mementos the last time we spoke," she said briskly. "We discussed what may or may not be 'real' in our relative pasts — but there's something from our shared past that I thought it might be nice to look over again!"

With a small flourish, she produced a middle school yearbook, explaining why she had chosen to switch seats. "Ah!" he exclaimed in realization. "I … should have one of those too, though I can't recall where it might be at the moment." He glanced at the shelves ruefully and sighed. "Probably in storage somewhere…."

"I wasn't certain, and I certainly couldn't think it would be proper to search through your things," she said, setting the thin tome on the kotatsu between them, in front of the box of daifuku. She situated herself comfortably, but before she could open it, Shamisen yawned from his spot.

Evidently deciding that the laptop wasn't warm enough anymore, or perhaps attracted by the scent of the daifuku, he hopped down, lighting at her side and sniffing curiously.

"Why, hello, there," she greeted the cat, tentatively scratching him behind one ear. The cat leaned into her hand with a mellow purr, taking that as all the initiative he needed to clamber into her lap and curl up comfortably, purring again.

While he wasn't tempted to follow suit, he did envy the cat's simple reasoning and lack of hesitation. It wasn't the first time he'd mused he might be envious of the lifestyle of the feline. "I wonder if it's more that he remembers you, or that he can tell you're a good person?" Kyon wondered, smiling softly at the creature.

"You think he's a good judge of character?" Sasaki laughed, tickling Shamisen underneath his chin.

He nodded, explaining, "Despite how much trouble she could be when she was small, he always tolerated my sister."

"This same sister you suggested should be sealed away?" she asked, arching one eyebrow higher.

"Only as a joke!" he insisted, raising his hands in a placating gesture, palms out. "In truth, I'm glad that he seems to enjoy your company; he's been with me since high-school, even if he has been slowing down in his age."

"I can tell that you are quite fond of him, just like you are of your sister," she mused, though her gaze was on the purring cat for the moment.

His eyebrows rose, but there wasn't any sense in denying it. His attitude toward his sister was playful; Sasaki was right, and she was important to him. "Well, that's true."

"But would I be right in guessing that Shamisen is also a living reminder of things that everyone else has forgotten?" she posed.

That he was, absolutely. Kyon nodded, not surprised she'd figured that out. Changing the subject slightly, he mentioned a different memory from long ago, commenting, "The last time you visited my room, you got to see my sister as well as Shamisen. There will be other opportunities, I suppose."

"I am very glad for the chance to visit with him, but it would be nice to see her again, too," she agreed, turning her attention to the book and cracking it open to a page near the back. "They are both important to you, after all, which makes them interesting to me! On that note, hmm, I wonder if you might find that Okamoto that you so admired?"

"Eh?" he replied, frowning. "Okamoto…. I barely remember her. What makes you think I admired her?"

"Didn't she always draw your eye?" Sasaki posed, flipping to a picture of the girl in question and pointing at it curiously.

He couldn't help but make a face. "Ah, yes. Well, she was pretty. I must confess that she did ensure to gather my attention, but not only mine. I hesitate to label someone so casually, but at least in middle school she seemed … superficial. Her personality and appearance were not good matches." He could think of one student quite easily who he had found both attractive and to possess a more charming personality.

"Goodness!" Sasaki exclaimed, eyes widening. "I hadn't realized…. Well, at this point, she might well be 'Sudou' now, might she?"

He privately doubted that, given that in his recollection, Sudou had been more interested in Sasaki, but had left her alone because of the misconception that she was somehow involved with Kyon himself. Spending time together in cram school and visiting his house on occasion probably didn't help with that, and Sasaki was quite clearly already involved with someone else the summer of their middle school reunion. In theory, so was Kyon, but that hadn't been a subject of interest to any of their former classmates, and he expected none of them would remember at that point, anyway.

"Possibly," he allowed, seeing a way to broach the topic he was considering earlier. "Though, on that thought, I could just as well have been wrong when I called you 'Sasaki', as your own surname has changed twice."

"Technically, three times, since I changed it back," she corrected. "But that thought crossed my mind when you saw me at the station and called that name. Much like I can call you 'Kyon'."

That much felt like a mirror of what he'd thought to himself earlier.

"There should be another reunion soon, come to think of it," she said thoughtfully. "I suppose we can see her then and remove all doubt. Ah, all this time I had thought that you had a crush on Okamoto, and it seems that you actually didn't!"

"She was the class representative," he said with a shrug, glancing at the contentedly purring Shamisen. "But, no. I didn't have any courage to pursue anyone in middle school … in fact, I even spent a substantial amount of time avoiding the idea of being in a relationship in high-school. After being rejected….

"In any case—"

"Why haven't I heard of this before?" she asked in surprise, eyebrows rising. "If it wasn't Okamoto, I never saw anyone else you seemed to show interest in! You were never so closed I couldn't read you, at least enough to suspect that was happening … were you? Unless it happened before we became more than casual acquaintances?"

"Eh…" he trailed off, stymied. "How could you not know?"

"Hmm, spoken like that," she mused slowly, ruffling Shamisen's fur and stroking his head gently, "you must believe it was right before me. I will confess, at that time I had harbored a hope that you would show interest in me!" Laughing softly, she added, "But perhaps it is for the best we were only friends, after all!"

He could only stare at her blankly for a long minute before turning his head to the page before them. There were all of their classmates, of course, Okamoto only being one of them, but the tired image of himself and a cheerful Sasaki both stared back from the pages as well. Scratching the back of his head, he sighed, "I flatter myself sometimes to think I am almost as perceptive as you are, when it comes to reading people. At the same time, it appears that both of us somehow managed to overlook something that should probably have been much more obvious."

She tilted her head to one side, her gaze fixed on him, her expression curious, though it didn't cover the smile she'd had since she came over.

"Ah, let's see…. Long ago, when we were in middle school, do you recall a time when I asked what you thought of romance?" he posed.

"Certainly," she agreed, nodding. "Why…." She blinked in realization. "Oh, goodness!"

"Right," he sighed, offering a weak smile and a shrug. "In my own clumsy and cowardly way, I was trying to discover if you'd be receptive to a confession before I could muster the courage to do it properly. I had thought you saw right through me and decided to try and let me down gently by heading it off!"

She gasped, eyes wide as one hand flew to her mouth, though she looked like she was trying to hold back a laugh at the same time. "I must apologize," she said, shaking her head. "In truth, I was not considering myself as the subject of the question particularly; I had undertaken it as a more objective question and merely meant to give my own answer."

"It suddenly strikes me that you are a remarkably selfless person," he mused wryly. "Well, my mistake, then. Even in high-school, I wasn't really the courageous person to make a confession; I had to wait for someone else to make the first move and merely follow suit!" he completed.

Biting her lower lip, Sasaki contemplated their pictures, Shamisen raising his head and offering a softly questioning meow. As if it were a mild admonishment to continue patting the purring feline, she resumed the activity, musing, "It is in some ways an amusing miscommunication…. At the same time, we likely agreed at some point in the past that it must work out in such a way."

"How—" He broke off and nodded slowly. "Ah, yes, the past that we rewound. You're right, though; it shouldn't be considered an opportunity lost. The experiences we had made us the people we are today, right?"

"Precisely!" she agreed with an emphatic nod. "Things may not have gone the way we dreamed, but what we have borne witness to shaped and defined us!"

He nodded slowly, rubbing his chin absently. How could he be bitter over a lost opportunity like that? He and Sasaki managed to maintain their friendship, after all, and he'd been able to see things that few others in the world had been fortunate enough to see. He'd learned a greater appreciation for things that were amazing, even without being supernatural.

Even better, he'd gotten to share some of that wonder with others — through small, impersonal bits, like his columns, and even more with the green flash he'd gotten to show Sasaki just recently.

"I think we might still be able to learn from things in our past, though," he said thoughtfully. "I can't help but think it would benefit you slightly more to be at least somewhat more selfish in your outlook."

"How do you— Ah, of course. If I had, then I would have answered your question differently," she mused.

"Well, if at some point in the future a similar opportunity arises…" he started, somewhat lamely.

"I see your point," she answered, nodding slowly. "In fact, if I had perhaps been slightly more aggressive in company meetings in the last few months, I could be in a better position to see how things are handled."

That wasn't what he'd meant, but he nodded anyway. She gave him a thoughtful look for a long moment, still grinning as though she'd realized something, and was waiting for him to catch on. Well, with the past being the past, there was the idea that she was happier _not_ being saddled with the responsibilities that being more selfish would have gotten her.

Sasaki's expression sobered, her smile fading slightly. "Ah, for all of this book of memories, I wish there were somehow a way for you to have a tangible reminder of her," Sasaki said apologetically. "I have all of the reminders I care for, so it would only be fair for you to have the same, after all."

He wondered at that; if the trade off were having no reminders for what he _had_ seen, he would understand that well enough. "Well, we can't always have everything," he said with a shrug. "Sometimes it's merely a good meal with a dear friend, followed by daifuku. I think it really underscores that we must appreciate what we do have, doesn't it?

"Haruhi always insisted that everything happened for a reason, after all!"

"That seems reasonable!" she agreed, closing the book, but fumbling when an irate Shamisen nudged her arm in protest of the lack of attention. "A moment of patience, you," she laughed at the cat softly, as the yearbook's pages flipped to one side, and the cover fell back open.

"What's this?" Kyon wondered, raising his eyebrows at a photograph tucked inside the front cover of the yearbook. It had a note on the back in Sasaki's handwriting, though she herself looked puzzled for a moment before realization dawned.

"Ah, yes," she mused, smiling softly. "I was in a study group at the end of elementary school; we took a picture together at graduation, and I must have tucked it in here long ago." Ignoring the cat for a moment, she carefully pulled the photo out and raised her arm out of Shamisen's reach, flipping it over to study the image, and giving Kyon a better angle on reading the note written on the back.

Sasaki had written her name, and those of her friends, along with the date and a description of 'elementary school graduation'. Of course, Sasaki's surname was not 'Sasaki' at that time, which brought up the question he still hadn't found a way to phrase.

After that, and the musing over a lost opportunity much later in middle school, he wondered if it might be some unlikely hint from a supernatural force. Familiarity with such things grounded him almost immediately; he studied the supernatural extensively, because he had seen enough of the genuine article to know. What were the odds of that being an event of that sort, as opposed to a mere coincidence?

Really, the mind generated justifications for coincidental events and labeled them otherwise. Then again, just because a point was raised by random chance, that didn't mean it was without value or wrong. While he saw little value in the fortunes taken from shrines — especially around the beginning of the new year — he recognized that even without believing them to be true, it was easy to find a context where they became relevant and provided a structure for analysis.

His studies and research across the years pointed out similarities between the fortune telling methods of many separate cultures. So why shouldn't he take this random thing as impetus to consider things logically?

He had only just resolved himself to say something when Sasaki shook her head, dispelling her own surprise, and carefully lay the photograph down on the front page of the yearbook, this time face up. He determined to give it proper consideration before speaking, if it had stolen her attention for so long.

It must have been taken by a teacher, judging by the angle, looking slightly down at a much younger Sasaki, with longer hair. On either side of her were two other female elementary students, all of them smiling happily as they stood on the lawn before their school. However, before he could remark that she had been quite cute at that time, his attention went from the image of Sasaki, to another student, seeming to just be walking behind them in frame, turned almost to face the camera in passing, but not _quite_, captured mid-smirk.

"That— That's _Haruhi_!" he couldn't help but sputter, remembering seeing her on one Tanabata evening, probably not very long after that picture was taken.

"So it is!" Sasaki exclaimed. "I had no idea— But why would this be left, if all other evidence of her vanished?"

He couldn't help but laugh. After spending so long convincing himself it was a coincidence….

Sasaki looked at him curiously, and he explained, "Well, you had just wished we had some picture of her, hadn't you? And now, there it is! Almost as though she was sending us one more reminder and farewell?"

"If the other traces of her vanished, it's entirely possible," she agreed, laughing gently along with him.

"In any case, I was contemplating broaching a particular topic with you, and I wonder if this isn't Haruhi's way of dragging me out of my complacency and taking a more active role," he continued, shaking his head slightly.

Sasaki's eyebrows rose curiously.

"Your surname is 'Sasaki', but you've changed it," he said with a shrug. "Though, I'm guessing you were able to tell what I was thinking."

She tilted her head slightly to one side and nodded. "Somewhat! Something about my name has been on your mind all evening," she allowed. "I had wondered what it was, but decided to wait until you chose to explain. My previous deduction must have been off!"

"Well, seeing your name printed on the photograph finally gave me the impetus I was lacking," he admitted. "Your given name hasn't changed, and 'Yoshiko' suits you, I think." He'd remembered the characters used to write that name easily enough; they were on her business card, and again on the back of the photograph.

Sasaki raised a fingertip to her lower lip thoughtfully. Her name was traditionally written with characters that meant 'luck' or 'joy', but she'd always chosen to use a different character, even as far back as middle school.

"I do still spell it that way," she agreed, looking down at the picture again. "Even then, I always thought that those ideals were in the eye of the beholder. It would be quite easy to fail to achieve those ideals — so I chose the character for 'sincerity,' because truth is a much more achievable ideal."

"As in, even if you cannot know if you do good or ill, you can be sure that you are being truthful?" he prompted.

"Yes," she agreed. "Though, naturally, I would like to think you do good."

"As subjective as that is, I believe you have," he encouraged. He paused, realizing suddenly that despite his intent to ask her for permission to use her given name, he'd already done it anyway. He sighed ruefully and ran a hand through his hair. "Aah…."

She chuckled softly. "Well, we aren't students anymore," she said, shaking her head gently. "But now, I think I've been remiss myself, and I cannot truly claim that your name does not suit you by being 'too noble'…." He felt his face warm at the praise, as she concluded, "Kyousuke."

And despite his better efforts, nearly everyone chose his nickname over his true name. He thought back to what she had told him at the beach, her comments about being content in that moment, and felt he understood it entirely.

"Well — I believe we will always at least be good friends; if we wish to analyze fitting names, the characters in my first name and your family name can both be used to write 'loyalty'. Though it's quite clearly possible to have unfitting names, as well, I believe that is an ideal we can both adhere to!" she declared.

"I agree!" he answered without hesitation. "And if we can be careful to avoid miscommunications like the one we shared in high-school…." He trailed off, shrugging.

Turning to look at the picture thoughtfully, Sasaki asked, "Would you be willing to accept this? As a memento? I had forgotten about it for many years, but—"

"No," he said resolutely, giving her a gentle smile. Shaking his head, he explained, "I couldn't accept that; it's a reminder of your own precious memories."

She touched a fingertip to her lip thoughtfully as he carefully closed the yearbook, then tilted his own head at the sound of footsteps on the walkway outside of his door.

She looked toward him curiously, but before either of them could speak, the door was abruptly flung open. "Hi, Kyon-kun—" the cheerful intruder exclaimed, before her eyes widened at the sight of his guest. "Oh! You have a _girlfriend_!?"

Both at the old nickname, and due to the way she barged in, the man bit back the urge to sigh, and settled for raising one hand to his face. "Perhaps the barrier _should_ be over the door," he mused wryly. "But it's too late now, so why not come in and make yourself at home, Imouto?"

His younger sister's eyes widened before he could reintroduce his guest to her, and she exclaimed, "Sasaki-nee! I always _thought_ you would meet up with my lazy big brother!"

"Yare, yare," the pair at the table sighed in tandem, before they exchanged a startled glance, unable to keep from chuckling at the humor of the situation.

* * *

After what they'd discussed, and the mood breaking somewhat, it was over an hour before his sister was satisfied she would get to see Sasaki again, and belatedly realized she had to hurry home to prepare for her college classes the following morning. It was only when that long discussion was finished that something approaching the peaceful atmosphere of earlier returned, but by then it was late.

"Ah, she's still energetic and charming," Sasaki laughed, once Kyon's sister had made her farewells and closed the door with a sly wink.

"My fault for entrusting her with a key," he mused. Glancing at his cat, sprawled on his back with paws in the air, he added, "Though someone has to keep Shamisen fed when I'm not around."

She chuckled, offering, "I was glad for the opportunity to visit with her after all! Ah, but it _is_ late; I should probably head home very soon."

"It's late enough the trains might stop," he agreed, rising to his feet. "Well, I need to get out of the house more, anyway. Since I would also be glad for the opportunity to speak with you just a bit more, would you let me give you a ride back to your place?"

"I suppose I can't refuse!" she exclaimed, hopping to her feet. "For all of my attempts to avoid being in your debt, you seem intent on showing me greater kindness. How will I ever make it up to you?"

He glanced at her worriedly, before recognizing the glint in her eyes, and her teasing. "Well, I don't know that I see it that way," he returned. "Really, I enjoy your company enough I consider us even at worst."

Patting his pockets, it took him only a minute to find his keys and wallet, before leading her outside. "Ah," she breathed. "It's colder than expected. I wonder if we will have a shorter summer, this year?"

"Well, soon we will be in the comfortably warm car," he assured her, locking the door behind him and leading the way swiftly to the waiting vehicle. True enough, it didn't take long for the heater to come to life.

"That's more pleasant," she mused after a moment, once he'd gotten the car on the road. "If I am to keep having these early morning or late night adventures, I should consider getting a heavier coat!"

"I've had to get quite a few for travel," he admitted.

"Well, clothing aside, what was it you had wanted to speak to me about?" she wondered, turning to look at him instead of watching the city lights slide past the car.

He focused on the road before him, puzzling how to best put his thoughts into words. "I'm not entirely certain how to say it," he admitted. "It feels after finding that picture, almost as if something significant were resolved. Even so, I don't like the idea of this somehow being just a note before closing another chapter of my life."

"I hadn't considered it like that," she replied after a thoughtful moment. "But, isn't the choice of ending or continuing ours? If neither of us wish to fall out of contact, then we can simply avoid letting that happen!"

"That's true, but after our middle school reunion…." He trailed off with a shrug.

"Well … if we hold true to ourselves, that doesn't need to happen," she returned patiently. "Hmm, I recognize that you are uncertain of saying something, but want to anyway — is that right?"

"Correct as usual," he admitted. "Unfortunately, I am that type of person who truly lacks initiative and is afraid to take risks that could jeopardize things I value. This frequently works against me. Even so … well, I'd like the chance to visit a few more times before you move for your new job."

She raised a hand to her chin and considered it in silence for a long stretch, as he maneuvered through the light late-hour traffic, until he reached the offramp leading to her district.

"It's difficult to imagine what risks you are afraid of," she mused. "But then—" She cut off suddenly, and he glanced over to see her looking into the distance, a gentle, sympathetic smile on her face. "I see," she said more quietly.

From the offramp, it was only a handful of intersections to her apartment building, and he pulled up to the sidewalk before the entrance. Ah, well, he consoled himself. There would be a next time, wouldn't there?

Turning to face him, she said, "While I think that some might complain about a lack of initiative, or find impulsiveness an appealing trait, I prefer to think of it that you are patient, and in that regard reliable. Certainly, I can understand where your caution might come from, given previous events—

"But we also agreed that the past was the past, even if it does shape us, and who we are."

He nodded, setting the parking brake while waiting for her conclusion.

She undid the seatbelt and put one hand on the door release. "If it would not be unwelcome…." She turned to face him and finished, "I can't enjoy the idea of intruding on moments in your past — as we discussed, those are the things that made us what we are. But … I think between the two of us, if we can set our own pace, then maybe we could create and share a positive future?"

"But what about your career?" he wondered. "Moving to Tokyo?"

"That is not the most important thing," she answered without hesitation. "Rather, I think value must be placed not only on the decision, but the inspiration to _make_ that decision. It is a problem, but one that can be solved another day; I am one hundred percent confident that it will be. At least, if I can take the advice you offered earlier and be just a bit more selfish about it, I could do something for myself before I made that change?"

"That sounds positive," he allowed. "What is it that you will be doing for yourself, then?"

Taking a breath as though to brace herself, she leaned forward despite the awkwardness, and managed to give him a hug. He was momentarily stunned, but summoned the wherewithal to return the gesture, appreciating it not because it reminded him of what he'd once had, but as she'd said, because of the new possibilities. She broke away, smiling even more deeply than she had before, and raised a hand to rub at her cheeks.

"As always, your company makes me smile so much my muscles ache from it," she teased. "Thank you, Kyousuke; I look forward to seeing you again."

"Thank you, Yoshiko," he eked out, happy, but slightly dazed.

He didn't quite manage to collect himself enough to say anything else back before she climbed out of the car and closed the door, but he sighed contentedly anyway. She was right, though, and there was no reason to rush; they had plenty of time later.

Releasing the parking brake and pulling away, he drove forward, pondering what the future truly _would_ bring.

* * *

Sarsparilla's notes: Writing this story has been an educational experience on several levels, and if the end result can be enjoyed as an independent work then all the better. Perhaps the most sobering — and humbling — aspect of teamwork is to see how a story gains its own, independent existence — visiting places that the authors hadn't anticipated and covering topics that only appear pertinent in hindsight. On the technical aspects of writing, I must commend Durandall's help with the finer points of the English language, as well as his patience in enduring my excruciatingly slow output rate.

Durandall's Notes: I initially approached Sars with a very incomplete idea of how this story would work. Thanks to her finding various holes and issues I'd never considered, as well as being willing to tackle Sasaki's share of the scenes, I think this is a story I can be glad to have worked on! I'm a big fan of Sasaki's character anyway, but getting to write a story where they become close like this, while also trying to write Haruhi out in a respectful, considerate manner, was a great joy. :)


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